


Return

by impalagirl, wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [35]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU after s3a, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Ghosts, M/M, alpha pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6436501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalagirl/pseuds/impalagirl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Stiles still has yet to reappear. It's the longest he's ever been missing, and Derek starts to worry. It's another two days before he realises he's being silly. Stiles wouldn't leave him; Stiles promised never to. He probably just tired himself out, and needs time to work up the energy to be seen again. That's all it is, Derek tells himself while he stares out of his bedroom window long past bedtime, hoping to glimpse a skinny boy running across the lawn. Stiles will come back.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Stiles always comes back.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by http://devildoll.tumblr.com/post/45907105127/what-if-derek-is-four-years-old-when-he-meets

_Sunshine streams through the leaves overhead, the air rich with the scent of newly-wetted forest. It's only just stopped raining, Derek knows-- and it's the perfect time to see what the rain's coaxed out of the pond. There's laughter nearby, familiar and taunting, and Derek follows it happily. He knows that something's about to happen-- but he doesn't realize what until the source of the laughter topples forward into the pond with a shriek, and then_ Derek's _in the pond, limbs flailing and trying to keep himself afloat, trying to keep the water from getting into his mouth, his nose, fighting a losing battle as something tangles around his legs, wetter and slimier than anything else in the pond, and it's dragging him down and down, further and further until suddenly it's not and he's being pulled to the surface--_

Derek wakes with a spluttering cough, immediately throwing himself onto his hands and knees to vomit and cough out the water he's swallowed and breathed, and he swears he can feel his very _cells_ working double-time, taking in more oxygen to make up for the deprivation of a moment. It all comes back to him, then-- the abomination, the paralyzing sting on the back of his neck and the terror as he realized he was helpless, and then Stiles holding him-- Stiles _dropping_ him--

"Why the _hell_ did you let me go?" Derek demands, flopping onto his back, voice hoarse, but he hopes his expression gets across his anger and resentment. "Dammit, Stiles--"

It doesn't work. All Stiles can see on Derek's face is fear. "I had to try to reach Scott," he explains, and he's panting, too, his heart pounding. Hauling Derek out of the water hadn't been an easy task. "Not that it worked, the bastard hung up on me before I could get a word out. Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" Derek yells. "You fucking dropped me in a _pool._ While I was _paralyzed._ What the hell makes you think I'm okay after that?"

"I got you back up, didn't I?" Stiles snarks back. "If it weren't for me, you'd be dead right now - and you'd have been dead long before I dropped you. Jesus, what's your problem?"

Derek's ready to snap back the truth, then-- but he remembers just in time that Stiles doesn't have any idea about what Derek knows. "It's not fun, nearly drowning," he growls instead. "Next time just leave me on the ground."

"To get ripped apart by a lizard monster?" Stiles demands. "Yeah, sure. Whatever, man." He's pissed, and while he was fully intending to help Derek up and check him over, he gets to his feet without so much as offering him a hand. "Next time I won't bother _saving your life._ " He walks away with an angry mutter of _ungrateful bastard_ , and doesn't look back.

* * *

_"Stiles?" Derek calls, carrying the box of toys in his hands, watching his steps carefully so he doesn't trip. "Stiles, I brought the toys like you asked!"_

_Stiles turns to look at Derek, his smile bright as he stands barefoot in the middle of Derek's lawn. "Yes!" he laughs, delighted. "Hurry up, I wanna play!"_

_Derek grins back, setting box down before flopping to the ground, carefully pulling out and arranging the toys. "I brought a couple of Laura's horses-- not her fancy ones, her old ones," he says, holding up a horse with faux hair for its mane and tail, clearly a few years old and well-loved if the worn spots around its stomach and sides were anything to go by._

_If it's possible, Stiles' grin brightens even further. "Cool! Space cowboys!" He reaches out to grab a horse, a sleek black one that still looks magnificent despite having definitely seen better days, but hesitates, and just points at it instead. "That one would be good for-- Dark Vader?"_

_"Darth," Derek corrects with all the imperious-ness of a seven-year-old who's heard about the movies but never been allowed to see them. "And you're right." Derek obligingly settles the second scariest man in the galaxy far, far away on top of the horse. "Which one for Luke?"_

_Stiles hums thoughtfully, and considers the other figures Derek shows him. "Maybe that one?" he suggests, pointing to a sandy-coloured horse with half an ear missing._

_Derek considers Stiles's choice for a moment. "I like it," he decides, arranging the figures. "Do we want Leia to have a horse?"_

_"Do we have enough?" Stiles asks, peering into the box. "Ham Solo should have one, too."_

_Derek giggles. "Han Solo," he corrects before digging out another toy horse, this one with a yellow body and dark mane and tail. "What about this one?"_

_Stiles looks between the horse and the Han Solo figure, and nods. "That suits him," he decides._

_They divide up the rest of the characters and play for hours, Derek moving the toys around per Stiles' enthusiastic instructions. Derek's mom comes out eventually to call him in for dinner, and it's only then that they realise that the sun is going down. Derek looks regretful, but Stiles just smiles. "It's okay," he says. "It's time for me to go, anyway." He watches Derek pack up his toys and then waves as he heads back across the lawn and up to the house. Derek looks back one last time as he's about to go inside, but Stiles knows he can't see him._

* * *

"Are you out of your mind?!" Scott yells. "You've said yourself that we can't know for sure that the kanima even knows what it's doing! How can you even _think_ that?!"

"Uhh, what's going on?" Stiles asks, drawing up to the Camaro cautiously. They're late leaving school, so thankfully no one is around to hear Scott's outburst, and Erica and Isaac are smirking at him over the top of Derek's car, silently backing their alpha up with eyeliner and intimidation. Derek and Scott are standing a few feet apart on the other side of the car, and Stiles automatically moves to stand an equal distance away from them both.

Scott throws his hands up and glares at Derek. "You tell him!"

"The kanima has proven itself dangerous," Derek grits out, glaring at Scott. "We need to end the threat, one way or another."

Scott turns an even deeper shade of purple, and Stiles looks between the two of them, his eyes wide. "What, like _kill_ it?"

"If we have to," Derek snaps. "Either of you have any information about kanimas you're withholding from us?"

Stiles frowns. "No."

Now Derek _really_ wants to throw his hands in the air. "Did I _ever_ say that was my first plan of action?" he demands hotly.

"Not that I heard," Erica pipes up helpfully from behind him.

"No, you just said it was probably going to be the most likely course of action," Isaac agrees; Derek turns and glares at him.

"That wasn't exactly helpful."

"We can't just kill an innocent person," Stiles says. "We don't even know who it is!" He takes a step towards Scott. "If that's how we reacted to every perceived threat, we'd have killed _you_ a good five times by now!"

"We both know that you two have the self-preservation instincts of a pair of lemmings," Derek snarks. "And we're talking about something that is _literally_ a creature made to kill. It's _not_ an innocent person."

"It is if whoever it is can't remember!" Scott cries, and Stiles steps even closer to him.

"He's right," he tells Derek, and there's something close to disappointment in his eyes. "I was hoping we could work together on this, but it looks like we can't."

Derek does his best to hide the flash of disappointment that steals over him at Stiles so clearly aligning himself with Scott-- but then swiftly reminds himself that he doesn't have a right to anything in this town, least of all Stiles. "Looks like it," he says, voice flat. "I'm not putting this town in danger because of a couple of bleeding hearts. This kanima is dangerous, we know _jackshit_ about it, and it needs to be stopped. You come up with a reasonable way of doing that, I'll listen. Until then, we'll work alone."

Scott goes to say something else, but Stiles stops him with a hand on his arm. "Come on," he says, throwing one last disgusted look at Derek over his shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

_"Derek," a woman's voice says, gentle but firm, and Stiles hesitates outside the door to Derek's room, unsure if he should enter. "I think we need to have a chat. About Stiles."_

_Derek looks up from where he's been using a T-rex to bite off a Lego-man's head. "Why?" he asks, genuinely curious. "Can Stiles not sleep over?"_

_Derek's mom, Stiles quickly deduces, sighs. "Sweetie, I'm not going to tell you that he can't be around anymore," she says, and she seems to be choosing her words carefully. "But, your father and I think you're getting a bit old to be playing with someone like Stiles. Don't you think it might be nice to make some friends... your own age?"_

_Derek frowns at that. "But I like Stiles. Besides, you always say that we have to be careful around the other kids who aren't like us, but I don't have to be careful around Stiles."_

_There's a pause, and Stiles dares to peek around the door long enough to see that Derek's mom is ruffling his hair fondly. "I know, sweetheart," she tells him. "But you won't always have to hide, and you won't always find it so difficult to hide when you do have to." She bends, and drops a kiss to the top of his head. "Keep playing with Stiles if you need to. For now."_

_Derek offers his mom a smile. "Love you, Mom."_

_"Love you too, baby."_

_She leaves the room, then, and Stiles is quick to press himself as close to the wall as he can, half-shrouded in shadow. She doesn't see him, of course, but he stays like that until she's downstairs again, and then he creeps into Derek's room. Derek looks like he's waiting for him; like he knew Stiles was there. Stiles feels kind of bad for eavesdropping, but he can't pretend he didn't. "That was weird," he says, flopping down onto the floor next to Derek. "Why do you think she said those things?"_

_Derek shrugs. "I know you’re older than me, but you do kinda look younger," he points out._

_Stiles concedes the point, chewing his lip. "Still, maybe I shouldn't come over anymore if your parents don't want me here."_

_Derek's response is instant and vehement. "No!"_

_Stiles' eyes widen in surprise. "Oh," he says. "Are you sure? I don't want to get you into trouble."_

_Derek nods, firm in his decision. "I'm sure."_

_Stiles' expression brightens into a smile. "Okay," he says. "I won't leave."_

_"Ever?" Derek presses._

_Stiles doesn't hesitate. "Never ever," he promises._

* * *

It doesn't take long for Derek to decide that Lydia is the kanima-- it makes sense, in his mind. Apparently Scott and Stiles and Allison don't think so, however, and they do their absolute best to keep Lydia away from Derek's pack. It works pretty well-- well enough that, even when Derek and his betas launch an almost all-out attack on Scott's house, where they've holed themselves and Lydia up, they still don't manage to get too close to Lydia; the closest is Erica, although she ends up tricked by Allison into getting shot with an arrow dipped in scavenged kanima venom. It's clever, Derek has to admit, and sort of exactly what he'd expect from the girl set to become the Argent matriarch.

Not like he'd ever say anything like that out loud, of course.

But then, when Derek's gathered his betas and they're standing in the road, Isaac and Boyd helping to hold Erica up, Derek's gaze is drawn to something crawling along the rooftop-- the kanima. Wide-eyed, he glances from the kanima to Lydia, who's standing bracketed by Allison and Scott, completely human. Derek quickly forces his expression into something vaguely threatening, and herds his betas away to safety.

Derek knows from experience that the kanima venom will wear off with no ill side effects, so once he's sure that his betas are safe and settled for the night, he heads over to the Stilinski house. He can hear Stiles downstairs, talking to his dad, and Derek hovers by the open window, ready for a quick escape should the sheriff decide, for whatever reason, to look into Stiles's room before Stiles gets there.

He doesn't, though, and when Stiles walks into his room he almost has a heart attack. "Jesus Christ!" he hisses furiously, slamming the door behind him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Derek glares at Stiles before tilting his head, listening to see if the sheriff was coming-- but apparently slamming doors is the norm for Stiles. "I was actually thinking about apologizing, but if you're not in the mood for it--" He makes to move out the window.

"Hey, wait, I didn't say that!" Stiles cries, holding out a hand. "Apologising for what?"

Derek pauses, looking back at Stiles with a raised eyebrow. "Accusing Lydia of being the kanima," he says slowly. "You're only going to hear this from me once, but-- you were right about it not being her, and I apologize." He considers that for a moment, then adds, "Tell her that, too."

Stiles seems kind of taken aback by that, and he considers Derek for a long moment before speaking. "Y'know, I can't figure you out," he says. "You're an asshole, I know that much, but I can't decide if you actually _mean_ to be."

Derek rolls his eyes. "Good luck figuring it out," he says dryly. "Let one of the betas know if you figure out who the kanima is, since we know it's not Lydia now."

* * *

_Derek_ hates _when it rains too hard for even him and his siblings to go outside. Of course, Derek wouldn't mind the rain, but his mom, apparently, does. So of course, as soon as the rain lets up enough, Derek’s out the back door like a shot, whooping for joy and scattering mud everywhere as he dug his bare feet into the dirt. The rain stops quickly enough, and Derek revels in the scent of the forest; he's always loved the smell that hangs in the air and coats his lungs after it rains. "Stiles!" Derek calls, trotting through the woods. "Stiles, where are you?"_

_"Over here," Stiles answers, emerging from between two trees. He's grinning, barefoot also, though there isn't a speck of dirt on him. "Does your mom know you're here?"_

_Derek nods. "Yeah, I was waiting by the door for the rain to quit so we could play."_

_"Awesome," Stiles says. "So what do you wanna do?"_

_Derek thinks for a moment. "Race ya around the house?" he suggests._

_Stiles beams. "Onyourmarksetgo!" he cries, and dashes off ahead._

_"Hey!" Derek protests, but he's laughing as he sprints after Stiles._

_They make it almost halfway around the house before disaster strikes. Derek's managed to pull ahead of Stiles, and is looking back over his shoulder to gloat when he trips over a tree branch that's been knocked from the tree by the recent deluge. He goes head over heels, tumbling a few feet down the path and scraping his arms and legs badly. It takes a moment for the pain to set in, but then Derek's crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he sobs with the pain._

_Stiles is at his side in an instant, his face paler than usual with shock and fear. "Derek! Oh my god, are you okay?"_

_Derek's sobs lighten to whimpers, but he shakes his head, pointing to one of his feet. "Hurts," he whines._

_Stiles doesn't get it; shouldn't Derek's werewolf healing be kicking in by now? "I don't know what to do!" he whines, panicked. "Derek, tell me what to do!"_

_"It's the new moon," Derek snaps despite himself, the gasps when he tries to shift his leg. "Ow, ow, go get Mom!"_

_"But she won't listen to me! She never does!"_

_"Stiles! I can't go, I can't heal my ankle! The new moon is bad for us, almost like an 'clipse!"_

_"Fine, fine!" Stiles hurries back around the house and up the steps to the front door. He can see Derek's mom through the window to the parlour and he starts screaming at the top of his lungs. "Mrs. Hale! Mrs. Hale come quick! Derek is hurt! Mrs. Hale!"_

_Talia is in the middle of a really good chapter of her book when the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stand on edge. She looks up sharply, trying to pinpoint what's suddenly put her on edge, but there's nothing around her but a quiet house. Talia hesitates for just a moment before marking her spot and putting her book on the coffee table as she stands up, going to the front door. Once it's opened, she strains her hearing-- and hears Derek crying. Alarmed, she bolts from the house, heading in the direction of the sound._

_Stiles stares after her, his mouth agape, and he considers following - but no. Derek has his mom now, and besides, there's nothing Stiles can do to help him anyway. He'll come back tomorrow; Derek will be fine._

* * *

Erica comes to the loft the next afternoon with a revelation-- the kanima is Jackson, and Stiles and Scott already knew that. Derek doesn't bother to resist the urge to growl at that-- he'd _known_ that biting Jackson would come back to bite _him_ in the ass, yet he'd still gone through with it. "We need to get to him, then," Derek decides.

"And kill him?" Erica asks. "The dynamic duo won't like that."

Derek frowns. "I don't like it either," he says after a moment. "Too many people have already died. But there's no way to cure a kanima-- at least so far as I know. There might be something in the Argent's bestiary, but I don't have a copy of it. For obvious reasons. My family's was lost in the fire."

"You could ask Stiles?" Erica suggests. "I heard him talking to Allison the other day, Lydia's almost through with a translation."

Derek considers that for a moment. "I'll talk to him," he finally agrees. "We need to come up with a plan, and there's no sense in working against each other."

"Even though the last time you guys spoke you basically agreed to be sworn enemies?" Erica asks, smirking.

Derek rolls his eyes. "If we can stop Jackson without killing him, I'd rather do that. Since none of _you_ seem to have any ideas..."

Erica's smirk deepens. "You've definitely changed your tune," she observes. "You want me to text him?"

Derek just shakes his head at Erica's first comment before deciding, "Yeah. See how far Lydia's gotten, and let him know that if they come up with a plan, we'll work together."

Erica laughs. "I don't think so," she says, not looking at Derek as she pulls out her phone and lets her thumbs fly across the screen. She waits, and when her phone pings, she looks up with a grin, triumphant. "You can tell him all that yourself; he's on his way."

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. "Why did i decide to bite _teenagers,_ " he mutters to himself, but it's without heat. Looking at Erica, he nods. "Fine. But I expect all three of you," he says, glancing pointedly at Isaac and Boyd, "to behave yourselves. Go work on homework or something."

Erica rolls her eyes. "Sure thing, boss."

* * *

_When Stiles comes back into his life, Derek doesn't even recognise him. He's just some gangly kid trespassing on Derek's land the day after his sister died, and it's the worst possible time for this. He's with a friend, and it's obvious that they're looking for something; obvious that they were here last night, too, when Laura was dying or perhaps just after. They weren't responsible though, that much is clear._

_Both nearly jump out of their skin when Derek tosses the inhaler over, and Stiles flushes an embarrassingly deep shade of red at the words, "This is private property."_

_"Holy shit!" he hisses to Scott, like he doesn't know Derek can hear him. "Where the fuck did he come from?"_

_A glance from behind a tree tells Derek that the one who spoke was the gangly kid, and the one he spoke to was Scott. Derek eavesdrops on their conversation, frowning slightly. The gangly kid-- Stiles-- seems vaguely familiar, but Derek can't place him. He can hear Stiles excitedly telling his friend that "That was Derek Hale! Don't you remember, he’s only a few years older than us."_

_"Hale? That was the family that got trapped in their house when it burned down a few years back?" When Stiles launches into an enthusiastic retelling, Derek feels his heart clench in his chest. That's all his family is, now, an exciting but tragic story to be told and retold until it’s undoubtedly twisted beyond belief._

_The kids don't stay long after that, and Derek follows them until they’re out of the preserve, hanging back in the shadows of the forest as they clamber into a robin's egg-blue Jeep. Derek watches them go, his gaze focused on Stiles with a frown._ Why _does the kid seem so familiar, even though Derek's sure he's never seen him before?_

* * *

Stiles shows up within the hour, Scott in tow. Derek's not surprised he didn't show up alone, even though they're still outnumbered. "Did Erica tell you why I wanted you here?"

Stiles doesn't look happy. "No," he says, thrusting his phone into Derek's face, Erica's message prominent on the screen. "She just sent me this cryptic-ass text, telling me to get here or else." He narrows his eyes at Derek. "I'm starting to think I know the answer to my question."

"What question?" Scott asks, but Stiles doesn't answer him.

Instead, he demands of Derek, "What do you want?"

"A copy of the translation," Derek says simply. "Look, I'm the alpha here-- I can't sit back and let you and Scott try to handle this on your own. This is my territory, my _family's_ territory. I want that kanima gone however I can get it, but you want to save it. You don't like me, I don't like you, but it will make things easier if we're not actively working against each other."

Scott frowns. "Why should we trust you?" he asks. "If we give you the translation, you could just use the information to kill the kanima."

"I could," Derek shrugs. 

"You're not helping your case," Stiles snaps.

Derek glares right back at Stiles. "And how do you plan on stopping the kanima? With Chris's help? Allison's? Chris will just use the information himself. Allison has only just begun her training; she won't be much help. You don't have enough experience with this sort of problem, Stilinski. This isn't some video game, or a criminal problem. You need me, or a lot more people in this town are going to end up dead."

Just like he had outside the school, Stiles looks disappointed. He exchanges a glance with Scott, who sighs. "If we do this," Scott says, "we're doing it _our_ way. No harm comes to the kanima."

"Even if the only way to stop it from hurting or killing someone else is to kill it?"

"It won't come to that," Scott insists

Stiles catches Derek's gaze. "But if it does, we'll talk," he says. "If there's no other way, we'll _talk_ about it."

Derek considers that, then nods. "Good."

* * *

_Derek's just turned five the first time he officially meets Stiles-- he's seen the other boy hanging around, caught glimpses from the corner of his eye, but they've never spoken. The waning crescent is high in the sky, but that doesn't affect Derek's eyesight. "Hi," Derek calls when he catches sight of the boy. "Why are you hanging out here?"_

_The boy actually looks surprised that he's been caught, trespassing on someone else's land, but after a second the shock fades and is replaced by a grin that is brighter than the sun. "Hi!" he cries, racing over. "Hi, oh my gosh! My name's Stiles and I always hang out here, but I've never met anyone else! What's your name?"_

_Derek's surprised at the boy's enthusiasm, but he grins anyway; he doesn't have very many friends. "I'm Derek," he says. "Why are you always here?"_

_Stiles shrugs. "I like it here," he says simply. "But you live here, right?"_

_Derek nods. "Yeah, we moved in about a year ago."_

_Stiles nods. "I remember," he says thoughtfully. "How old are you?"_

_"Five," Derek answers proudly._

_"Awesome!" Stiles enthuses. "I'm older, but not a lot. Do you wanna play?"_

_Derek grins, nodding enthusiastically. "I've got an hour before bedtime."_

_Stiles looks like that's the best thing he's heard in a long time._

* * *

In the end, they confront the kanima at a rave-- although that plan kind of backfires when Scott gets trapped by Allison's mom; Derek goes to rescue him, but when Victoria Argent refuses to let them leave peacefully and attacks them, Derek reacts off of instinct, lashing out and biting the hunter. It's a foolish thing to do, but it gets them out.

It also gets Victoria dead; suicide is the official cause of death, but Derek knows the Argents' code; Victoria killed herself because the bite was taking. Allison, understandably, loses her mind a bit-- but when she attacks Derek's betas without provocation, it's all that Stiles can do to keep Derek from going after her personally. The two of them have been spending more and more time together, and Derek's found himself growing _fond_ of the sarcastic human. Not that he ever really shows it, of course.

They get cornered a few nights later at the sheriff's station; the kanima paralyses Derek and Stiles, and it's revealed that the kanima's "friend"-- master is more accurate, as it turns out-- is Matt Daehler. He monologues a bit, teases him and Stiles, and then follows Scott to the holding cells where he shoots the beta before leaving. The hunters attack then-- because _of course_ they do-- but luckily enough of the kanima venom has worn off that Derek's able to get Stiles to safety before bolting down the hall, trying to either find a way out or stop the kanima. He finds the kanima first; it's cornered Melissa, trapping her in one of the cells; Scott shows up, gasps out that Allison's here and that she wants Derek, and then helps Derek chase the kanima off. Melissa sees what her son has become, and Derek resolves to have a talk with both her and Scott soon, but apparently not now because Scott's already left..

Derek tracks Scott outside, where he overhears Scott and Gerard talking after most of the chaos has died down. He can feel fury building in his chest, threatening to spill into his limbs, but he holds it back-- barely. Instead he listens, learns everything that he can-- and then leaves. He needs to check on his betas, make sure they're okay, and he and Stiles need to come up with another plan.

Derek still isn't sure how, exactly, they manage to pull it off-- all he knows is that his betas have left him, he's all but powerless, and now he's been tricked by Scott into giving Gerard the bite. Luckily it turns out that Scott's been conspiring with Deaton to feed the insane geriatric hunter mountain ash and wolfsbane, so that the bite will kill him either way, even if it takes. Even with Gerard out of the way, however, they're still left with the problem of Jackson. Hell, he's not sure at all about how they're going to cure Jackson-- because apparently kanimas can be cured, according to Deaton, by bringing their psyche back into balance. But how the everliving hell are they going to do that when--

When Stiles runs Jackson over with his Jeep.

And not just a tap; no, Stiles actually sends Jackson flying across the room. All Derek can do is watch, stunned, as Lydia appears to bring Jackson back simply through the power of teenage love. Distantly, Derek was aware of Stiles saying something to Scott that wasn't quite a lie-- something about having scratched his car when he hit Jackson. A glance at Stiles reveals that he's much more upset than he's letting on, and Derek swallows against the urge to go comfort him; he's not the one Stiles goes to for comfort anymore.

That doesn't stop him from showing up outside of Stiles's window that night; he can see the teenager sitting at his computer, holding an ice pack to his face, and Derek gives Stiles the courtesy of a warning knock before he opens the window. "What happened?" he demands without preamble, gesturing to Stiles's face.

Stiles sighs. "I fell," he says. "Into someone else's fists."

Derek raises an eyebrow. "Really? And who did these fists belong to?"

Stiles shrugs. "Like I told my dad, some kids from the other side of tonight's game."

Derek's eyebrow goes higher, if possible. "You wanna try answering that again? Truthfully this time?"

Again, Stiles sighs, and he drops his head into his hand. "Can we not?" he asks. "Why do you even care?"

Derek moves until he's crouching in front of Stiles; he hesitates for a moment and then reaches for one of Stiles's hands, drawing it away so he can press his palm to Stiles's cheek, draining the pain as he speaks. "You saved us, tonight," he says quietly. "You've saved Scott's ass so many times over the past few months, and you've saved mine several times as well. But no one ever really seems to be there for you, and that's not right."

Stiles chokes on air. "That's-- that's ridiculous," he sputters.

Derek lets his hand fall when there's no more pain to drain, but it lands on Stiles's knee, gently, but there all the same. "Which part?"

"I do have people here for me," Stiles says. "Scott--"

"Who's been obsessing over Allison and the problems with her family," Derek points out. "You two don't smell as strongly of each other as you did that day in the woods. I almost thought you two were fucking."

Stiles looks disgusted. "Definitely not," he says. "He's like my _brother_."

"Well I know that _now,_ " Derek says, his tone almost teasing. "But pseudo-brother or no, he's been distracted."

Stiles glances away. "It's okay, though. I understand."

"But that doesn't mean you don't deserve someone to be on your side, too," Derek insists, voice quiet but firm. He gets to his feet, then nods at Stiles. "If you don't want to tell me who did it, then that's your choice. But Erica and Boyd are missing, and Isaac's started hanging out a lot more with Scott. I'm planning on enlisting their help, but..." Derek fishes in his pocket for a photo, handing it to Stiles. "That was carved in the front door of the Hale house. It's a warning to my pack-- and I consider you pack. So, be careful."

Stiles looks dumbstruck, and he gapes between the photo and Derek. "You-- okay," he says, his fingers tightening around the picture, crumpling its edges slightly. "I'll look into this for you. And anything else you think will help." It's not much, but it's there: acceptance of the solidarity Derek is offering him, and a very sincere thank you.

Derek nods, offering Stiles an almost _soft_ look of thanks, before scribbling something down on a Post-It. "Text or call if you find anything out, or if you feel as if you're in trouble."

* * *

_They've been playing for two weeks before Derek invites Stiles in for dinner. Well, Derek has invited Stiles lots of times, but this is the first time he's accepted. "Are you sure?" Stiles asks again as they walk up to Derek's big house. "My folks always said not to be a bother. You should at least ask your mom."_

_Derek considers that for a moment before nodding. "I'll ask her, but she'll probably say yes." With that, he bolts into the house, talking as soon as the door opens. "Mom, Mom! Can Stiles come in for dinner?"_

_Talia emerges from a room off the hall in a heartbeat. "The boy you've been playing with these past two weeks?" she asks, curious. "Certainly. Invite him in."_

_Derek beams at his mother before bolting back out the door. "She said yes!"_

_Stiles takes a moment to cheer before following Derek into the house. Inside, Derek's mother looks around, confused, before frowning down at Derek. "Sweetheart, I told you to bring him inside. It's rude to leave people at the door to follow you. Go back and actually walk with him."_

_Derek's frown matches his mother's. "He's standing right here," he insists._

_Stiles chances a wave, looking uncomfortable. "Hi, Mrs. Hale."_

_Derek's mom is clearly confused, but she peers in the general direction that Derek had pointed and then her face brightens considerably. "Oh, hi Stiles!" she says warmly. She looks pleased to see him, but she's also looking just to the left of Stiles' face. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there. It's lovely to meet you!"_

_Stiles just smiles and nods, and glances at Derek. "Show me your room before dinner?" he asks._

_Derek can tell something isn't right, but he nods nonetheless. "Yeah, it's up the stairs."_

_Stiles follows Derek from the room, but he doesn't miss the concerned look Mrs. Hale sends after them._

* * *

Scott and Allison spend all summer kissing and trading sappy love notes; Stiles and Derek spend it trying to find Erica and Boyd. They're not successful, any leads they find are dead ends, but they don't give up, and eventually it pays off. Right before the start of the school year, they find Boyd and Erica, barely alive but still breathing - and Derek's long-lost little sister, Cora.

And just like that, Team StilesandDerek becomes Team Stiles and Team Derek once again. They're not on opposing sides anymore, but they weren't before the summer started anyway. Stiles thinks they're still pack - he hopes they are - but Derek has his betas back now and Scott has remembered that Stiles exists, so there's little call for them to spend time together anymore or even talk to each other. Stiles is sure that Derek will come by when there's trouble afoot and he needs something else researching, but for now he's just left feeling more than a little bitter that he didn't even get so much as a thank you for helping to save Derek's pack.

Which is why he is both unsurprised and completely blindsided when Derek shows up at his door one day after school. "What, does the climb up to my window suddenly seem too daunting for you?" Stiles asks dryly, stepping back to allow Derek inside. "Who's trying to kill us this week?"

"We've still got to take care of the alpha pack," Derek says, stepping inside, "but nothing more pressing than that. I just figured we haven't seen each other in a while, we should... catch up." It sounds awkward even to Derek's ears despite it being the truth.

"You want us to catch up," Stiles repeats, watching Derek warily. "What, drink tea and eat cake while I tell you how my week's going? Or do you mean you want me to look something up for you?"

Derek shrugs. "I... don't know. It's been a while since I've tried to do this."

Stiles cocks his head to the side. "Do what?"

Derek can't look at Stiles as he admits, "Trying to be someone's friend."

Stiles' expression softens, and something in his chest loosens. "Well, I never would've guessed," he says, but he isn't being mean. Instead, he's smiling. "Why don't you come sit down and I'll get us something to drink? I'm just about to finish up dinner, if you want some."

Derek offers Stiles a tentative smile. "That'd be nice. Thank you."

Stiles grins back and beckons for Derek to follow him into the kitchen. "It's just stir fry," he says, retrieving a diet coke from the fridge for Derek before returning to the spring onions he'd been chopping when Derek arrived. "Chicken. My dad should actually be home on time tonight, but I'm not holding my breath."

Derek makes an interested noise. "You cook a lot?"

Stiles nods. "My dad works late most nights, and someone has to make sure he doesn't live off of take out and cookies." He shakes his head. "God knows what's going to happen if I move away for college."

Derek tilts his head, cracking the soda open. "If you leave?"

"Well, yeah," Stiles says, glancing over his shoulder before turning back to his task. He scrapes the chopped spring onions off the board and onto a plate, and reaches for a red pepper. "There are a lot of interesting colleges out there, and not all of them are close by." He shrugs. "I'm not committed to anything yet, though. It's too early, and there are other factors to be considered."

Derek suddenly finds the carbonated beverage in his hands fascinating. "Like the supernatural stuff?"

"Like the supernatural stuff," Stiles agrees. "I think things are getting better between Scott and your pack, and by the time college rolls around he might not even need me, but right now I feel like I should still be close by."

"Not an unreasonable feeling," Derek concedes with a grin. "What are you thinking about doing for college?"

"Probably something history-related," Stiles says, hesitating. "Did, um. Did you go to college?"

Derek nods. "For general science with a focus in biology and anatomy," he answers. "I got through my Associate's, was going into my last year for my Bachelor's and was thinking about maybe looking at teaching when Laura came back here."

Stiles hums thoughtfully. "Would you go back into it?" he asks.

Derek considers that for a long moment before shrugging. "If things ever calm down, I might."

Stiles nods. "Based on what I saw last year," he says lightly, still not looking at Derek, "you'd make an awful teacher. But, yeah. If you ever get the chance to stop and, like, breathe, I think you'll do pretty well."

Derek flicks the metal tab at Stiles's back. "I didn't have time to _plan_ anything," he retorts, but it's good-natured. 

"Hey, I know!" Stiles says, whirling around to grin at Derek. "You were under a lot of pressure. But, hopefully you know better now." He sobers. "You've just got Erica and Boyd back, and now Cora; you don't want to lose them again."

Derek smiles softly. "Yeah, I don't want that. I still can't believe that she's alive, much less here."

"Does she remember much?" Stiles asks gently.

Derek shakes his head. "She just ran; spent most of the past several years shifted. I don't know how she managed to get out, but I'm glad of it."

Stiles smiles. "Me too," he says softly. He watches Derek for a moment, considering him, before whirling around to add the peppers to his pile of veg. "So, do you like your stir fry spicy or mild?"

Derek grins. "The spicier the better."

Stiles laughs. "You're a man after my own heart, Derek Hale."

* * *

_"Hi, Derek!" Stiles says cheerfully, poking his head around Derek's door with a big smile. "Your mom said you were up here, and that I should come cheer you up!" She said nothing of the sort, of course, but it's become kind of a running joke lately. Now that Derek understands about Stiles. Derek doesn't smile this time, though. He's sitting on his bed, looking forlorn and lost, and Stiles moves further into the room. "She said you're super sad about something," he says, and he sounds pretty darn sad himself. "Why are you sad, Derek?"_

_Derek lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I didn't get a lot of sleep," he answers truthfully. "Never do on full moons."_

_"Full moons?" Stiles asks, coming closer. "What's so special about them?"_

_Derek glances at the door, but then scoots himself closer to Stiles as well. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"_

_"Cross my heart," Stiles promises, doing so._

_Derek's satisfied with that, so he scoots even closer, until they're almost touching. "I'm a werewolf," he admits, voice quiet. "My family is, too. We change on the full moons, but I'm still learning how to."_

_"Wow," Stiles breathes. "That's so cool!"_

_Derek grins when Stiles doesn't freak out. "It is," he admits. "And it's really fun. But sometimes the full moons aren't very fun."_

_"Do you turn into a real wolf?" Stiles demands._

_Derek shakes his head ruefully. "No, most of us can't. Mom's special though," he adds with pride. "She can."_

_"That's_ so cool! _" Stiles cries again. "I bet you could do it too one day!"_

_Derek shrugs, but he's smiling. "Maybe," he allows. "But Mom said she didn't do it until after she was_ twenty. _That's so old."_

_That is old," Stiles agrees, "but you'll do it one day. You will!"_

_Derek shrugs once more. "If you say so," he says, grinning. "Come on, do you want to play Space Cowboys?"_

_Stiles grins back. "I always wanna play Space Cowboys."_

* * *

Things continue in that vein for a while; Derek hangs out with Stiles and spends time with his betas, but the two clear factions rarely intermingle. Not until the night that one of Stiles's friends gets murdered.

Derek visits Stiles that night, knocking on the window briefly before he opens it. "Hey," he says, voice quiet. 

Stiles is nothing more than a lump in the middle of his bed, only his nose and the top of his head visible from beneath his bundle of blankets. He doesn't move, but nor does he tell Derek to leave. "Hey," he says instead, morose, the word more of a sigh than anything.

Derek settles on the side of the bed, reaching out to lay his hand on where he's pretty sure Stiles's shoulder is, letting his thumb sweep across the fabric before he gives Stiles a comforting squeeze. "How are you doing?" he asks softly.

"Pretty shit," Stiles mumbles after a lengthy hesitation. There's a rustle, and then he pokes his head out of the blankets to peer beseechingly up at Derek. "Tell me you know what did it. Tell me you've _destroyed_ them."

Derek gives Stiles a rueful smile. "I'm afraid not," he admits. "We're looking, I promise, but so far..." He sighs. "Whoever-- or whatever-- did this, they were good. In a bad way, but."

Stiles fights the urge to whine and burrows back into his nest. "I should never have left her," he mutters to himself. "Stupid XL condoms."

Derek gives Stiles a little shake. "If you hadn't left her, you'd be gone, too," he tells Stiles firmly. "Whoever took her was prepared-- and they probably would have just killed you and left you in her basement."

"They're gonna kill me anyway," Stiles grouches darkly.

Derek raises an eyebrow. "So you're just gonna give up?"

This time, Stiles flings the covers back to glare at Derek. "No! I wanna get this bastard and flay him alive! But--" he deflates a little, "--I'm gonna be sad first."

"Good," Derek says approvingly. "There's nothing wrong with being sad-- but you can't give up." He gave Stiles's shoulder another squeeze and a pat. "I think you'll be okay."

Stiles nods, looking miserable. "I will," he agrees, and meets Derek's gaze. "So will you."

One side of Derek's mouth quirks upwards in a semblance of a smile. "Eventually," he agrees.

Stiles manages to smile back. "That's the spirit."

* * *

_They're sitting in Derek's room playing Frustration when the door suddenly bursts open. Both look up, alarmed, and see Laura standing there, practically bristling with righteous fury. "Derek! Have you been in here playing with Stiles_ all day _?"_

_Luckily Derek drops the dice in his hand out of shock rather than crushing it before he frowns at Laura. "Yes," he answers warily. "Why do you care?"_

_"Because I want to play with you!" Laura whines. "You can't spend_ all _your time with him!"_

_Derek's frown turns petulant. "You spend all your time with_ your _friends," he accuses._

_Laura looks like she's warring with herself, debating whether or not to say something mean. "Well, at least_ my _friends are_ real _!" she cries, and Stiles gasps._

_Everything goes still. "What?" Derek whispers, big eyes locked on his older sister. "Stiles_ is real!"

_"He is not!" Laura insists. "Mommy says we have to be nice and that you have to grow out of it on your own time, but Stiles is_ imaginary _and it's dumb, Derek. You're too old to play with him."_

_Derek outright glares at his sister. "Stiles is my friend," he insists. "And he's a better friend than you are!"_

_Laura gasps along with Stiles this time. "I'm telling Mom!" she wails, sounding close to tears, and she storms from the room._

_Derek folds his arms over his chest defensively as he glances back at Stiles. "You are real," he says stubbornly. "And I'm not sorry for being mean."_

_"I know," Stiles agrees, glancing toward the door where Laura had been standing only moments ago, "but I think you really hurt her feelings. Maybe you should be sorry for that?"_

_Derek expression flickers. "Maybe," he allows. "But she was mean to you first."_

_"She can't see me," Stiles reminds him. "It's hard to make friends with people if you can't see them."_

_Derek pouts. "But she said you weren't real," he protests._

_"Do you believe her?" Stiles asks._

_Derek shakes his head. "You're real," he says firmly._

_Stiles grins. "Then that's all that matters," he says firmly._

* * *

Despite having rescued his betas and long-thought-dead sister-- or perhaps because of that-- the alpha pack remains a threat. They've enrolled two members at the local high school; when Derek sneaks onto the grounds to try to get a look at them, to size them up, he runs into Scott's English teacher, Ms. Blake. She seems nice enough, and Derek lets her strike up a brief conversation. She leaves shortly after, and Derek retreats to the woods at the edge of the parking lot to give the appearance that he's left; he doesn't fully leave, though, not with those alphas still so close to his pack.

They look like twins, when Derek finally sees them. He doesn't like them, doesn't like the looks of them-- he's heard rumors about the connection between identical twins' wolves before, and he doubts that them becoming alphas has suddenly made those rumors _less_ likely to be true.They worry him, and Derek lets the rest of the pack know that.

That night, while doing his grocery shopping(he can practically _hear_ Stiles teasing him about being 'a real boy'), Derek runs into Ms. Blake-- "Call me Jennifer." They chat idly for a few moments in the frozen entrees section before going their separate ways, but that's far from the last time Derek sees her. If Beacon Hills were any bigger of a town, he'd be worried about how frequently he runs into her; as it is, because Beacon Hills is the size it is, it's not entirely unlikely that they'd happen upon each other frequently. Most likely, neither of their routines have changed, it's just that now they have a name to put to the face that's always been there.

Derek's also taken to hanging out with Stiles when the sheriff has a night shift and Scott can't be there; partly it's because Derek's worried that the alpha pack will single Stiles out as a target-- Stiles is useful, and the whole pack cares about him, so it wouldn't be a huge stretch of the imagination to think that they'd decide the best way to get to Derek and the pack is through the resident human. The other part is simply that Derek enjoys Stiles's company.

"I ran into Jennifer again today," Derek says casually, flipping through one of the tomes that Stiles ordered off of Amazon in his quest to track down anything useful about the alpha pack. 

"Oh?" Stiles asks, equally casual, without looking up. "Didn't realise you two were on first-name terms now. Did she have anything exciting to say?"

Derek shrugs, jotting down a note on a Post-It and sticking it in the book. "She invited me to go get coffee."

Stiles arches an eyebrow. "Wow," he drawls. "We are getting chummy, aren't we?"

Derek rolls his eyes. "I am allowed to have friends besides you," he retorts, chucking a balled-up piece of paper at Stiles's head. 

Stiles ducks too late, once the paper has already hit him in the side of the head, and he scowls. "I know," he says. "But, Ms. Blake? Really?"

Derek pauses, tilting his head consideringly. "Are you jealous?"

"What?" Stiles snorts. " _No._ "

Derek raises an eyebrow. "You sure? Cause you're acting a bit like you are."

"Why the hell would I be jealous?" Stiles demands, in lieu of an answer.

Derek shrugs. "You tell me," he shoots back.

Stiles' scowl deepens. "I'm not jealous," he insists. "There's nothing to be jealous of."

Derek's not quite convinced-- but Stiles isn't lying, either. His heartbeat, though elevated, remains steady. He settles for going back to his book, humming, "Whatever you say."

Stiles sticks his tongue out at Derek. "Just be careful," he says. "Ms Blake is totally a sexual predator, that's all I'm saying."

Derek looks up sharply. "What makes you say that?"

Stiles looks up too, his eyes wide. "I don't know," he says, feeling suddenly guilty. "I just-- She's older, and she's totally into you but I'm willing to bet it's only because you're hot like burning. She can't have known you long enough to see all of your--" He waves his hand about in a vague, all-encompassing kind of gesture, "--other attributes. The good stuff, that's inside. Y'know. So, that means she's only after one thing. So, sexual predator." He flushes, embarrassed, and looks away again. "She'll just use you and lose you, man. And you don't deserve that."

Derek blinks. Then, he looks back at his book, a small, but sad, smile on his face. "You sounded almost exactly like Laura," he says quietly. "I'll be careful, okay?"

Stiles doesn't quite know what to do with that. He doesn't want to remind Derek of sad things, or worse, of happier times that he can never get back - and he definitely doesn't want to be compared to Derek's _sister_. But he supposes there are comparisons to draw; Stiles cares about Derek, a lot, and so did Laura. "Good," he settles for saying, the words soft, after a period of silence that runs a handful of beats too long. "That's all I'm asking, man."

* * *

_Stiles meets Derek after school every day, and they resist the urge to play Space Cowboys until they've finished Derek's homework. Derek grumbles about this a lot, but Stiles, denied the excitement of learning at the hands of real teachers, loves it. "Derek, you're late!" he cries one afternoon, when Derek finally trudges up to his house a whole twenty minutes after he usually does. "Come on, come on, I wanna know how we did on yesterday's math sheet!"_

_Derek lifts one shoulder apathetically. "We did okay, I guess," he mumbles._

_Stiles frowns. "What's wrong?"_

_Derek shrugs again. "I got held after class," he confesses. "The teacher was worried about me being antisocial."_

_"Antisocial?" Stiles repeats. "You have friends!" But what he means is,_ you have me _, and that's not really the same thing._

_Derek shakes his head. "I really don't, not besides you," he says sadly. "It's dangerous for them. I might lose control."_

_"Did your mom say that?" Stiles asks._

_Derek sighs. "She did, but it's also common sense," he answers. "I'm stronger and faster and nowhere near as in-control as Mom or Laura."_

_"It won't always be like that," Stiles says. "You've never lost control around me. You could totally have friends."_

_"But I know I can't hurt you, so I don't worry," Derek argues. "I know I can hurt others."_

_"You can't hurt me," he agrees, "but maybe you just need to believe that you_ won't _hurt the others."_

_Derek worries his lower lip. "Maybe," he says slowly, "but I don't need any other friends; I've got you and my pack."_

_"You will need other friends one day though," Stiles presses. "I can't be your only friend forever."_

_"Why not?" Derek asks, suddenly worried. "Are you leaving?"_

_"No," Stiles says quickly. He tries for a smile. "But you can't spend all of your time talking to yourself."_

_This time, when Derek frowns, it's confused. "But I don't talk to myself. I talk to you."_

_"You're the only one who can see me, Derek," Stiles says softly._

_The frown turns petulant. "I don't care. You're still my friend."_

_"I am," Stiles agrees, "and I will be forever. But you can have more than one."_

_"But I don't_ want _more than one right now," Derek argues._

_Stiles smiles, nods. "Then let your mom deal with your teacher, and we can go play."_

* * *

Derek does take Stiles's advice-- sorta. He still spends time with Jennifer-- even goes on a date with her that he thinks goes rather well, considering his history. He likes her, enjoys her company, but in the back of his mind he can't help but replay Stiles's words every so often and wonder if maybe he should end things before they progress any further.

Then Lydia starts finding the bodies, and they find out that they're not only dealing with an Alpha pack-- they're dealing with a Darach that is sacrificing people. That kinda puts a bit of a damper on any relationship-related things for a while.

Of course, it's after they realize that there's two threats that the Alpha pack decides to start upping their game; Derek's pack is being beset upon from all sides, now, and he feels stretched thin trying to keep track of everyone and make sure they're safe. He doesn't feel like he's doing a very good job, and he's just about desperate for an edge-- any kind of edge. 

He doesn't have time to find one, however, before everything comes crashing down around his ears-- literally. A fight with Ennis leaves the other Alpha dead and Derek barely alive. Jennifer finds him like that, takes him back to his loft, and bandages his wounds. Derek's not _quite_ sure how they end up having sex, but they do. He knows that there's something he should be doing besides getting naked, but...

It's not until there's a pounding on the loft door just after Jennifer leaves that he realizes that he's had _no_ contact with his pack.

"Derek Hale, if you're alive in there, you get the fuck out here right now so I can _kill you!_ "

Derek swallows, then opens the door. "Hi," he says quietly.

Stiles wastes no time; he shoves Derek back from the door as hard as he can and storms into the loft. "Three days!" he shrieks. "I thought you were dead for three days, Derek. Me and your entire pack! And you were with _her?_ "

Derek lets Stiles push him away. "I'm sorry," he says, begging Stiles to just hear him out. "I didn't even realize anything was wrong, I just--" _I just lost three days._ Derek sucks in a breath. "I'm sorry, you were right."

"What the hell happened, man?!" Stiles demands. He feels shaky and vulnerable, and way more invested in this situation than he should be, even as Derek's friend. "How could you? Was she really more important than your pack?"

"I don't know what happened," Derek says desperately. "But she isn't that important, Stiles." _Isn't more important than you,_ is what he wants to add, but he doesn't think now's the time for that revelation. 

Stiles scoffs. "Sure looks that way to me," he spits. "We were devastated. _I_ was devastated. We need you! And you were too busy, what, getting your rocks off to tell us you were still breathing?"

Derek can't look Stiles in the eye anymore; he knows now that he should have fought harder against Jennifer, but... Realization hits, and Derek thinks he might be sick. "I think she did something, Stiles."

Stiles freezes. "You-- what?"

Derek frowns, losing his train of thought. "She-- she was helping me heal, I think. She said I actually died at one point."

Stiles huffs. He's at least eighty percent certain that that's a lie, but without Derek's super fancy werewolf skills, he can't say for sure. Either way, he's not impressed. Jennifer is a school teacher - how can she be better qualified to help Derek heal than his own pack? "Whatever," he snarls, feeling bitter beyond belief. "If you want to play doctor with the nice lady, that's your business. But I had Isaac in my bed last night whining, literally whining, because he's scared to be alone. Scott's good, Derek, but he's not their alpha. And don't even get me started on Cora. They all deserve better than this. And as your friend, so do I."

Stiles leaves, then, before either of them can say anything else, and when he gets to his Jeep, he locks himself inside and he cries. Derek is alive, and the relief is overwhelming, but it's clear that he doesn't care about Stiles the way Stiles has come to care for him.

Derek may be the alpha, but that doesn't mean he can tune out everything-- especially not when his pack member is in distress. But what can he do? Stiles has made his opinion of Derek perfectly clear on several occasions, and if Derek went out there now... Well, he'd probably just make things worse.

Doesn't mean he doesn't want to, though.

* * *

_Realization hits Derek almost as hard as Kate's bullet had. He's spent the past couple of hours being driven around town by Stiles, in Stiles's Jeep, and surrounded by Stiles's scent. There's always been something familiar about it, but Derek's never been able to place it before. Now, however... Derek sucks in a sharp breath, filling his nostrils with the scent of_ Stiles _, the Stiles he knew close to seventeen years ago. But that's not possible... Is it?_

_"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Stiles demands, sounding disgusted. "Are you going to die? Please don't die in my car, Derek, I'll never get the seats clean."_

_Derek huffs out something that is almost a laugh. "I'm not gonna die if Scott gets that bullet," he coughs. "I just realized something."_

_"Realised what?" Stiles asks. "Is he going after the wrong bullet? Did we miss something? You can't not share here, dude, you're leaking your lifeblood all over my upholstery."_

_This time, Derek does laugh-- painfully. "It's nothing like that," he mutters. "Just something about fate screwing me over again."_

_"Well, duh," Stiles says, unimpressed. He changes gear and throws the car around the next left. "I'm taking you to Deaton's, and we're going to wait for Scott there. Any complaints?"_

_Derek growls, grabbing onto the Jesus handle with his good arm. "Yeah, about your driving," he snaps, gritting his teeth against a fresh wave of pain._

_"Stop complaining," Stiles gripes. "I'm saving your life here, asshole."_

_"Yeah, well Scott's not going to get to Deaton's anytime soon," Derek snarls. "So you don't need to drive like a maniac. This isn't_ Grand Theft Auto. _"_

_Stiles glares at Derek, and speeds up._

* * *

The darach and the alpha pack keep them on their toes for the next few weeks, and Stiles and Derek reach some kind of uneasy truce for the duration. Stiles knows Derek is still seeing Jennifer, and it pisses him off for reasons he really doesn't want to understand; Derek knows that Stiles is mad and wants to keep his distance.

On the whole, though, things are going well. They know exactly when and where the alpha pack plans to attack next, and they think they've finally gotten the upper hand - but then Derek gets his ass kicked all over the loft, and just when they think things can't get any worse, Kali tries to drop Boyd onto Derek's extended claws.

It takes a single, gut-wrenching second for Stiles to understand that if she succeeds, Boyd will die. There's nothing Derek can do; he's badly beaten, and the twins are holding him fast so he can't move. Stiles meets his gaze and he also understands that Derek knows this, too.

.

But then Erica is there, screaming with a fury Stiles hardly recognises, and she's knocking Kali and to the ground. Boyd still falls, but without Kali directing his weight, he simply glances off Derek's claws and slumps to the side, bleeding horrifically but mercifully still alive. For now.

Stiles isn't really sure what happens after that. The alpha pack slink off to an unknown lair and Scott screams for the other betas to help him get Boyd out of there, to the clinic so that Deaton can help him, and then Stiles is the only person left behind. Stiles, and Derek.

Derek looks broken, still kneeling where the twins left him, his hands still outstretched though his claws have retracted. All that's left of what happened is the blood on Derek's fingers, and the corresponding puddle on the floor beside him. Derek has yet to take his eyes off his hands.

Without saying a word, Stiles crosses the room to stand behind him, and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder.

* * *

_It's not long after first meeting Stiles that Derek realizes that there's something off about the other boy. For one thing, no one else can see him. For another, he always smells... faint. His scent is almost barely there on the bad days, but even on the good days, when Stiles is upwind from him, Derek still has to actually focus to find Stiles's scent. It's old, too-- smells like Grandmom's wedding dress that Mom has hidden in the attic. And Stiles wears funny clothes, too. Nothing like what Derek wears._

_Of course, Derek just discounts all of that-- he's only six, he's got more important things on his mind-- until he can't anymore._

_He can't ignore how odd Stiles is sometimes when Stiles literally can't hold anything._

_Derek finds this out about two weeks after he first meets Stiles; he goes to hand one of his action figures to the other boy, and it falls right through his hand. Derek stares at the toy on the ground, and then at Stiles's hand, then back to the toy, then he finally looks up and meets Stiles's gaze. "Why didn't you catch it?" he asks, frowning slightly-- more from confusion than anything else._

_Stiles shrugs, looking embarrassed. "'Cause I can't," he says simply._

_Derek tilts his head. "Why can't you?"_

_Stiles sighs. "'Cause I'm not really here," he says. "Not like you are."_

_"Not really here?" Derek echoes. "How come? Don't you want to be here?"_

_"No, I do," Stiles says quickly. "I really do. I just can't be."_

_"Well, why not? Will your parents not let you?"_

_"It's not up to my parents," Stiles says. "It's not that simple. But I'm still here; I just can't touch stuff like you can." He smiles. "Maybe one day."_

_Derek nods. "Okay. Well, I'll just move the toys for you, then."_

_Stiles beams. "Great idea!"_

* * *

When Stiles finds out the truth about Paige, about Derek's eyes, his heart breaks a little. He knows from personal experience how hard it is to look into the mirror and see a lost loved one staring back at you - but what must it be like to see that loved one's _murder_ , at your own hands? And, okay, what Derek did can't really be classed as murder, but evidently the supernatural doesn't take the victim's wishes into account, because Derek's eyes still flash a damning blue whenever he looses his wolf.

It's awful, and Stiles wants to talk to him about it, but he can't. Things have been getting increasingly strained between them, and Stiles isn't even sure if they're friends anymore. Besides, Derek doesn't need Stiles - he has Jennifer now.

But then everything changes. Lydia screams in Jennifer's face and she aborts her attack on the banshee - _Lydia's a banshee, fuck_ \- and takes the sheriff instead. It's like Stiles' whole world collapses around his ears, and just behind the desperate, paralysing fear for his own father is the almost equally urgent knowledge that Derek doesn't know. His girlfriend is a psycho killer, _again_ , and he has no idea.

Once Stiles points this out Scott immediately heads over to confront Derek, and Stiles goes with him. It shouldn't surprise him that Jennifer is there, all over Derek looking like butter wouldn't melt, but it does. Stiles feels it like a punch to the gut, and he steps forward before Scott can so much as open his mouth. "Get away from him!"

Derek steps back automatically, looking at Scott and Stiles, puzzled. "What are you talking about?" Jennifer tries to step back into Derek, but he sidesteps her-- something's not right, he realizes. Stiles looks like he's a couple of breaths away from a panic attack. 

"She's the darach, Derek, she took my dad!" Stiles cries.

Derek looks at Jennifer sharply. For her part, she looks at him incredulously. "You're not seriously going to believe him, are you?" she demands. 

One glance at Stiles's expression is all Derek needs. "Yes," he says simply. 

Jennifer just stares at him for a moment before she bares her teeth in a snarl. "Fine," she hisses. "So what? I'm working to defeat the alpha pack, just like you-- if anything, we should be allies!"

"Allies?" Scott demands. "You've been killing people. You've kidnapped our families. Why would we help you?"

"Because without me, you'll never defeat the alpha pack," Jennifer retorts. "Or find your family."

Scott exchanges a startled look with Stiles. "So you'll spare them?"

"Well, unless I end up needing their power if your pack can't come through," Jennifer says. 

This time, Scott exchanges a look with Derek. Seconds pass, during which they have a silent conversation that even Stiles can't follow. Finally, at Scott's nod, Derek seizes Jennifer roughly, and Scott smiles. It's cold and makes Stiles' stomach churn. "Then you're coming with us."

* * *

_"You're not the boss of me, Derek!" Stiles cries. They're in Derek's bedroom, and Stiles is taking advantage of the fact that Derek can't shout back at him by shouting twice as loud as normal. Mrs. Hale has officially decided that Derek is too old for imaginary friends, and Derek can't lie and say that he isn't playing with Stiles anymore, but he can keep her from finding out when he does. "I want to try again, so I will!"_

_"You know what happened last time!" Derek hisses. "I don't want you hurting yourself!"_

_"I didn't hurt myself last time!" Stiles argues. "I just got really tired! That won't happen again!"_

_"How do you know?" Derek demands, mindful of his volume._

_"Because I won't let it!" Stiles huffs. "Please, Derek," he whines. "I just wanna try. I swear I'll be careful."_

_Derek glares at Stiles, arms crossed over his chest, for several long minutes before he huffs. "Fine," he bites out. "But if it happens again I'll say I told you so."_

_Stiles nods sagely, like this is a fair exchange, and shuffles across the room until he's standing in front of Derek. "Okay," he says softly, almost to himself, and bites his lip in concentration. "Okay." He reaches out a hand - and his fingers pass straight through Derek's arm._

_Derek shifts closer to Stiles, holding out his hand. "Try again," he says quietly._

_So Stiles tries again. And again. And again. For about an hour nothing happens, but then, all of a sudden, his fingers brush against soft, warm skin, and then Stiles is sliding hand over Derek's palm to lace their fingers together for the first time._

_Derek stares in awe at their joined hands; it's barely there, but Derek can feel the pressure of Stiles's hand in his. It's not warm, not like his mom's or Laura's hand, but rather cool. "You did it," he murmurs._

_Stiles squeezes Derek's hand, grinning. "Told you I could," he says proudly._

_"Yes you did," Derek concedes with a smile._

* * *

Their plan for the attack at the hospital goes... badly. To say the least. It ends with Derek back at his loft, a poisoned Cora on his bed, and Jennifer back on the loose.

Derek hangs his head, burying his face in his hands as he thinks about Jennifer. Christ, she'd been playing him all along. And those three days he was missing... His stomach threatening to rebel, Derek forces his mind from that train of thought and back to the matter at hand: Cora is dying. If Derek can't help her... He'll lose his sister almost as soon as he found her. He doesn't think he can bear to know that he's responsible for the death of yet _another_ family member. 

Eventually, after combing through what was left of his family's bestiary, Derek realizes what he has to do: he needs to give up his alpha power if he wants to save Cora. At this point, it’s the only chance she has, and Derek will gladly go back to being a beta if it means he can save Cora. His betas will be fine-- Scott’s coming into his True Alpha powers, and he'll be a better alpha than Derek ever could.

Without hesitation, Derek grabs his sister's hand, piercing the skin at her wrist with his claws, and _pushes._

Stiles arrives half an hour later, and the packets of herbs Deaton sent him over with are scattered across the floor when he sees Derek slumped over a prone Cora, unconscious. "Derek?" Stiles chokes, racing to his side. "Derek! Can you hear me?"

Derek slides to the side when Stiles shakes him, but he doesn't rouse, doesn't give any sign that he's still alive aside from the slight rise and fall of his shoulders.

"Derek!" Stiles cries again. "Shit, fuck, what have you done?" He looks around the room, desperate, but sees nothing: no evidence of what's happened to Derek, not even a couch he can move Derek onto to make him more comfortable. The only real piece of furniture in this place is the bed, which is obviously occupied, and Stiles curses Derek loudly for being too riddled with manpain to realise that the very least of the nice things he deserves is simple furniture. Huffing with the effort, he hauls Derek over to face him and gives him another hard shake. "You can either wake up right now," he warns, "or I'm gonna punch you in the mouth again."

Still no response. 

"Fine," Stiles mutters. "Fine. You fucking asked for it, jerk." He draws his fist back and, in a move horrifically reminiscent of the first time Derek almost died in his arms, hits him in the face.

_That_ gets a reaction, Derek jerks awake on a shout of pain, rolling out from under Stiles. "What the _fuck?!_ "

"You're asking me that?" Stiles demands, his eyes wild. "I come in here and find you passed out on the floor, and you won't wake up no matter what I do? I think I'm the one who should be asking questions!"

Derek stills, then springs off the floor, dashing to the bed. He puts the back of one hand to Cora's forehead, then lets out a relieved breath. "It worked."

"What?" Stiles asks. "What worked? Derek, what did you _do?_ "

Derek lets his eyes flash, knowing they'll be the same brilliant blue they've been for years instead of red. "I saved her."

Stiles sucks in a breath like he's been punched in the gut. "Fuck," he sighs. "You gave up being the alpha?"

"It was the only way to save her," Derek says defensively. "I couldn't-- couldn't lose her. Not again."

"No," Stiles agrees, "I know. I'm not-- You did the right thing, of course you did. And, Scott..." He huffs, looks away. "The betas won't be on their own, is what I'm saying."

Derek nods, hearing even what Stiles isn't saying. "I know. I--" Derek looks back at Cora, sleeping peacefully on the bed beside him. "I'd do it again in a heartbeat," he confesses quietly. "It's selfish, but I would. I didn't see Jennifer for who she was, and... I couldn't let my family pay the price for my mistake again."

Stiles' expression softens. "It wasn't your fault," he says quietly. "You couldn't have known."

Derek's laugh is short and humorless. "No, I should have," he disagrees, but doesn't elaborate. "Why are you here?"

Stiles gestures to the floor behind him, which is still littered with little baggies of herbs. "Deaton sent me with some stuff to help Cora," he says. "And, I was worried about you."

Derek glances at the discarded herbs, then back to Stiles. "Thanks," he says with a quiet smile.

Stiles smiles back. "Anytime."

* * *

_It's a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the birds are singing, and the grass is warm beneath Stiles' bare feet. He's been practicing, and for the first time in a long time, he can feel it. Stiles' newfound ability to touch delights them both, and a smile is never far from Derek's face whenever Stiles demonstrates it by moving his own share of the toys or by shoving Derek playfully when he wins a battle._

_Derek looks pretty happy now, distracted by a butterfly while he waits for Stiles to join him. It's a Saturday, and the height of summer, which means that they can spend the whole day playing. The smile on Derek's face is light and carefree, brightening further when he finally spots Stiles, and Stiles wishes that he wasn't about to wipe it clean off. But he has no choice._

_"I have to leave."_

_Derek blinks at Stiles, unsure if he heard the other boy right. "You... have to leave?"_

_Stiles nods. "Not yet," he says, "but it's almost time for me to go away."_

_"What-- Why?" Derek asks, lost. "Why do you have to leave?"_

_"So I can do something else," Stiles says. "Something important, I think."_

_"You think?" Derek cries. "Why do you have to go if you don't even know why you're going?"_

_"Because that's just the way it is," Stiles tries to explain, anguished. "I have to go."_

_Derek frowns, petulant. "I don't want you to go," he says mulishly._

_"I don't have a choice!" Stiles whines. "And, it might even be a good thing."_

_"But you're leaving," Derek says, voice small. "What if I never see you again?"_

_"It'll be okay," Stiles says confidently. "You'll see."_

_"No it won't!" Derek snaps, leaping to his feet so he can glare at Stiles better; he almost slips on the Nerf ball he'd brought put so that he and Stiles could play catch. "You're leaving!"_

_"I just said I don't have a choice," Stiles cries, "but listen to me! This might even be a good thing!"_

_"How?" Derek demands, stomping his foot._

_"Because I can't do anything like this! I can't help you up if you fall again and I can't go to school and I can't even be seen! Your mom thinks I'm imaginary, Derek, you're not even allowed to play with me! If I go away, that won't be the case anymore!"_

_"But you'll be_ gone! _" Derek shouts. With a frustrated snarl, he kicks the Nerf ball by his foot-- and watches it sail through Stiles's head to land with a_ plop _in the pond behind them._

_For a moment Stiles looks shocked by this outburst, and he turns to look at the ripples spreading out across the surface of the water before looking back at Derek. "Would you just calm down and listen to me?!"_

_Derek glares at Stiles. "No," he says stubbornly, walking towards the pond and toeing off his shoes and socks before rolling up his pants legs. "I'm gonna get the ball back."_

_"No!" Stiles cries, hurrying after Derek. "Don't! Just let me explain!"_

_"I gotta get the ball," Derek says impatiently, wading in; the ball has drifted to the center of the pond, but luckily since it is the middle of summer and they haven't had any rain for a while, the pond isn't any deeper than Derek's waist. His pants are soaked, but he figures he'll just leave them on a log. He grabs the Nerf ball and wades back out, mud squishing up between his toes as he slogs through it to the shore. "There," he huffs._

_But Stiles doesn't answer, and when Derek turns to look, he's even more pale than normal, and he's shaking - he's_ crying. _"Why did you do that?" he demands, and his voice breaks._

_Derek frowns. "I had to get the ball back. Besides, the pond wasn't that deep."_

_Stiles laughs, a desperate, hysterical sound. "It's still dangerous!" he sobs. "I'm not good enough yet, I couldn't have saved you!"_

_"Saved me? Stiles, I can swim. The water wasn't even over my waist, anyway."_

_"You still could have died!" Stiles snaps. "_ I _died!"_

_That brings Derek up short. "You died?"_

_Stiles seems to realise what he just said, and he chokes, as if he can drag the words back into his mouth if he tries hard enough. He stops crying with the shock, his eyes wide, and he sniffles miserably. "Yeah," he says simply. "In that pond."_

_Derek can't help but glance over his shoulder at the pond. "How?"_

_Stiles looks down. "I wanted to catch some tadpoles," he admits sheepishly. "I waded out too far, and I slipped. I couldn't stay above the surface."_

_"But your parents--"_

_"They weren't around," Stiles says. "They hardly ever were."_

_"So there was no one to pull you out," Derek finishes, voice quiet._

_Stiles nods. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely. "I know you can swim. I was just scared."_

_Derek steps forward, closing the distance between them and offering Stiles his hand. "I'm sorry for getting mad," he replies. "And kicking the ball through your head."_

_"It's okay," Stiles says softly, focusing so that when he reaches out too he can take Derek's hand. "I didn't feel it. Obviously."_

_Derek smiles a bit, but it slips away after only a moment. "You really have to leave?"_

_"Yeah." Stiles looks around, and then tugs Derek down to sit on the grass with him. "It's time for me to, y'know, go on."_

_"Cause you're a ghost," Derek says-- and it finally hits him, what that means. "Will you remember me?"_

_Stiles shakes his head. "I want to," he says, "but I'm not going to heaven. That's what I was trying to tell you. I think I'm coming back as someone else."_

_"Then I'll find you," Derek says. "I'll help you remember."_

_Stiles nods seriously. "I want you to," he says. "Promise me. Promise me you'll find me and tell me who you are."_

_Derek nods, holding up his hand, pinky extended. "I pinky promise."_

_Stiles hooks his own pinky around Derek's and wiggles their hands a little. "Pinky promise," he agrees, smiling. "We'll always be friends, right?"_

_"Always," Derek promises._

* * *

Derek receives a call the next day from Stiles. "I'm sorry, you're going to _what?_ " he demands. 

"I'm going to save the adults," Stiles repeats. "With Scott and Allison. Deaton's come up with something he thinks will help."

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose. "What is he planning?"

Stiles winces. "Um. We're sort of... going to die."

It's quiet on Derek's end for a long moment. "Stiles, I swear to whatever deities are listening, you better have not have said what I think you said."

"Only for a little while!" Stiles whines. "We're going to take a really quick bath, in ice water, and then we're going to come back!"

" _Stiles._ People don't just 'come back' from being dead." _Even if you've done it once before._ "Scott may have a better chance of surviving, but you and Allison are _human._ "

"Deaton thinks it'll work," Stiles insists. "Derek, we'll be fine. Don't you trust him?"

Derek swallows. "I do," he says. "Just-- be careful. You're no use if you're dead, any of you. And... I'd miss you."

Stiles scoffs. "Of course you would," he says fondly. "See you on the other side, Sourwolf."

Half an hour later, when he emerges gasping from the freezing water, Stiles can remember _everything_.

* * *

When everything's said and done, the alpha pack dead or gone, and Jennifer dead as well, Derek approaches Cora in the loft. "I'm thinking of leaving," he starts with. "I don't know if it'd be permanent, but... I need to get out, at least for a while. You want to come with me?"

"Yes," Cora says, no hesitation. "Where are we going? When?"

"I don't know where, but I want to leave as soon as possible," Derek answers. "We can figure it out as we go."

Cora nods. 'Are you going to tell Scott?' is what she means to say, because Scott is their alpha by default now, at least until they leave, but instead what comes out is, "Are you going to tell Stiles?"

Derek hesitates. "No," he finally says. "I don't think so."

Cora gives him a look, and it's very similar to one Laura used to give him: one that says _Are you shitting me?_ and _My poor baby_ all at once. "He won't like that," she says quietly.

Derek laughs, but it's dry. "I know. But-- If I don't leave now, if I go to tell him goodbye..." _I won't want to leave._

"I get it," Cora says, and she does. "Let's just pack up now and start driving. You can call Scott once we've left."

Derek nods. "Sounds like a plan," he agrees. 

* * *

As soon as it's over, really over - as soon as he can let his dad out of his sight for more than five seconds without feeling like the world is going to implode - Stiles goes to Derek's. And, of course, Derek isn't there.

The loft has never looked lived-in, but there's an emptiness to it now that makes it very clear that Derek is gone; that he isn't coming back. Stiles cries then, for the first time since he emerged from that ice bath, and then he calls Derek. He knows instinctively that however this goes, he won't be calling again, and he isn't even surprised when it goes straight to voicemail without ringing once. He just opens his mouth and starts to speaking.

"You bastard. You knew the whole time, and you didn't tell me. You _promised_ , Derek. You swore to me that you'd find me and you'd tell me. This whole time. It's all been a lie, hasn't it? Everything. Everything we did, everything I felt... _Everything_." His voice breaks. "Well fuck you, Derek Hale. I _need_ you, and you're _gone_ , and I--"

A beep cuts him off, and then a tinny, prerecorded voice advises him, "Your message has been recorded. To delete this message and record another, please press one. To..."

Stiles considers deleting it, but in the end he just hangs up and leaves the loft. It doesn't matter. It's not like Derek will ever listen to it anyway.

* * *

Derek doesn't hear the voicemail until seven months after he and Cora left Beacon Hills. He listens to it while Cora is in the shower at the small apartment they rented in Virginia, and by the time she emerges, Derek's listened to it seven times and he's on the verge of crying himself. "I gotta go back," he chokes out. "Stiles remembers."

Cora's eyes widen. It's taken a lot to get Derek to open up to her, especially about Stiles, but now she understands exactly how important this is. "Okay," she says. "Okay. We can leave first thing - or right now, if that's what you need."

Derek forces himself to take a deep breath and think rationally. "First thing," he decides. "It's late now, so we might as well wait until tomorrow morning."

Cora nods. "It'll be okay," she says, but she can only hope that Derek believes her.

* * *

A week later, while the sheriff is mercifully at work, Stiles walks into his bedroom and screams. Ever since the sheriff was clued in on the real goings on in Beacon Hills he's been a lot more jumpy, and increasingly worried about Stiles. For his part, Stiles has been feeling kind of guilty both for not telling him sooner and for telling him at all, and later he'll definitely be grateful that his dad isn't home to hear the sound of sheer terror and disbelief that just left his mouth.

But that's later. Right now, all he can handle is a second scream, this time with words included. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Derek doesn't dare step any farther into the room than his position right next to the open window, but he offers Stiles a sheepish smile. "I probably should have texted or something," he admits. 

"You think?!" Stiles yells. "It's been months, Derek. _Months!_ "

"I know," Derek says, holding up his hands-- though he's not sure what he intends to do with them. "I know. I'm sorry."

Stiles deflates like a balloon with a puncture. "You're sorry," he repeats bleakly. "Seven months, and a year of lying before that, and that's what you've got for me."

"Well, what else am I supposed to have?" Derek snaps, then forces himself to stop, to calm down at least a little. "I spent almost sixteen years thinking you were just _gone_ ; there was no way for me to find you! Hell, I didn't even realize that you were _you_ until I was forced to spend several hours trapped in an enclosed space with your scent everywhere!"

"You didn't know it was me?" Stiles asks, disbelieving. "I have the same name, Derek! How many Stileses do you know?"

"Yeah, well with the way my luck had gone recently, it would have just been coincidence," Derek retorts. "I just-- even when I knew, would you have believed me? 'Hey, Stiles, guess what-- you have the same name as the ghost I befriended a year or two before you were actually born, and I think he reincarnated into you.'"

"You were supposed to make me believe," Stiles says. He sounds very small all of a sudden. "You promised."

Derek slumps, then, with his whole body. "I know," he repeats. "And I'm so sorry for that-- with everything that happened, I... I had other things to focus on, and I thought... I thought maybe my family had been right, that I'd just come up with everything that happened between us." He snorts, then. "I broke my promise to you, Stiles-- and there's nothing I can do to fix that."

Stiles looks away, his eyes wet. "I felt something," he tells the wall. "Right from the start, I could tell you were important. You pissed me off at first, sure, but by the end all I wanted was to be important to you, too."

Derek dares to take a tiny step forward. "You were-- _are_ \-- important to me," he says quietly, but with no less conviction. "And I'm sorry I didn't let you know it."

Stiles lets his gaze flicker to Derek, searching his face for a moment before he looks away again. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" he asks.

"Because if I came to say goodbye, I wouldn't leave," Derek answers honestly. "And I needed to get out. So much had happened... Cora and I needed to leave."

"I get it," Stiles says. "I understand needing to leave, and I understand not wanting to despite that. I know that it's different now, that things have changed. We're not the same. But we were still friends. You could have been dead for all I knew."

Derek swallows. "I didn't do things right," he admits. "I know that. I'm going to work on that, but-- Well, there's no real excuse. I'm here now, and I want to work on things between us. I want us to be friends again." _More, even,_ but Derek doesn't dare say that aloud.

Stiles nods, swallowing. "Are you back for good?" he asks. "Scott-- There's a place for you, in the pack. Cora too, if she's here. We miss you both."

"She's here," Derek says. "I don't know if we're back for good, but we're here for a while."

Stiles nods again, trying not to show how crushed he feels. "I want us to be friends, too," he says.

Derek smiles, then-- tentative, but there. "So, we're okay?"

Stiles sighs, and manages to smile back. "I guess," he says. "We did pinky promise to be friends forever."

Derek's smile widens. "We did," he agrees quietly, pleased. 

* * *

Derek blinks at Scott. Glances over his shoulder at the clock, squinting a little. Turns back to Scott. "It's seven in the morning," he says, voice raspy from sleep. "What are you doing here?"

"Stiles told me you were back," Scott says simply. "We need to talk."

Derek nods, stepping back. "Cora's still asleep upstairs," he says, voice quiet. "This way." He leads Scott into the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee and offering the carafe to Scott. 

Scott fixes his own coffee in silence, and leans against the kitchen counter with the mug cradled in front of him. Once he has Derek's full attention, he begins. "Why did you come back?" he asks. "Are you staying? Do you expect a place in the pack?"

Derek studies the liquid in his mug, considering his answers carefully. "We don't know if we're staying just yet," he says. "We didn't even really plan on coming back, not for a while at least. So I guess that answers the 'do we expect a place in the pack' question, too: we don't. Right now, Cora and I are more omegas than anything else. If we decide to stay, we would like to be part of the pack, but until that question is decided..."

"I understand that," Scott says evenly, "but I want you to understand that I can't give you much time to make that decision. Normally I'd tell you to take all the time that you need, but having omegas around, especially ones we know, will disrupt the pack's dynamic. And, I think that given the circumstances, it wouldn't be a good idea for you to stick around too long if you're just going to leave again."

Derek frowns slightly, tilting his head. "The circumstances?"

"Stiles," Scott says bluntly.

Derek stills. "Did he tell you?"

"He told me enough," Scott says. "You leaving really fucked him up, Derek."

Derek swallows, swirling his mug idly. "I guessed," he admits. 

"So you get what I'm saying," Scott pushes. "You can't just reimmerse yourself into his life and then abandon him again."

Derek nods. "I know," he says quietly. "But this isn't just my decision; I won't make Cora stay in Beacon Hills, but I can't let her leave on her own, Scott."

"Of course not," Scott agrees. "But when you left here you forfeited the right to be considered pack. I'm not saying that you can never be again, clearly, but what I am saying is that just like you have to consider Cora, I have to put the needs of my pack first. And right now, Stiles is my priority."

Derek nods. "I understand," he says quietly. "Can we have a week or two, then? To decide if we want to stay."

Scott nods. "Two weeks," he says. "No more. And whatever your decision, you have to talk to Stiles."

"I will," Derek promises. 

* * *

Derek's waiting for Cora in the kitchen when she wakes up and finally ventures downstairs. "Scott dropped by."

Cora nods, busying herself with making coffee. "What did he say?"

"He gave us two weeks to make a decision about whether we're staying for good," Derek answers. 

Cora frowns. "He's trying to protect Stiles," she deduces after a moment. "Right? He doesn't want you to break his heart again."

"Yeah," Derek answers, nodding. "And I can't blame him. I don't know-- Beacon Hills is full of a lot of bad memories, Cor."

"I know," Cora says gently. "But maybe it's also full of the potential to make a lot of good ones." She smiles. 'I guess that's what we have to decide."

"If the good outweighs the bad?" Derek guesses, but he's smiling too. "We don't have to make a decision now, but I don't want us to be separated again."

"I don't either," Cora agrees. “Scott gave us some time. Let's just let it lie for a while, sleep on it."

"That sounds like a plan," Derek says, reaching across the table to take Cora's hand, squeezing it gently. 

* * *

It's almost another week before Stiles sees Derek again, and in that time he's all but convinced himself that he hallucinated the whole conversation they had in his bedroom. Derek hasn't made any effort to see him, and he isn't willing to make the effort himself, so it's better if he just pretends for now that Derek isn't back. That illusion crumbles, however, when Stiles sees him in town. It's worse, somehow, that this meeting hasn't been planned on either of their parts - the shock on Derek's face must mirror his own, and they both falter awkwardly.

He looks beautiful, and that doesn't help. Stiles doesn't know how someone can look so stunning, just strolling down the street wearing a scowl and a week's worth of scruff and a bright pink shopping bag on his arm, but it's making him regret his choices to forgo a shower before rushing out to buy milk. He strongly suspects that the bag belongs to Cora, because she's looking ridiculously smug as she pulls Derek along by the hand. She turns back to look at him when he stops moving; Derek shakes his head quickly and stumbles back into motion, and for a heart-stopping moment Stiles thinks he's going to _ignore him_ , but then Cora spots him and skips over, leaving Derek no choice but to follow lest he be dragged across the floor in her wake.

"Hi Stiles!" she cries cheerfully, and Stiles resolutely does not look at Derek.

"Uh, hi," he mumbles. "It's good to see you."

"Hey," Derek says, offering Stiles a sheepish smile and a small wave-- honestly, he's been avoiding Stiles because he has no clue how to talk to the other now that they both remember everything. They've got a new history on top of their old one, and Derek's having a hard time reconciling the two. 

Cora looks between the two, her gaze calculating, and then she pulls the bag from Derek's arm and says, "Okay. You two need to talk, and I need to shop. I'll see you later!" She flounces off without a second glance, leaving Stiles to gape after her.

"Y'know," he says mildly, "I kind of hate her sometimes."

Derek rolls his eyes, but his smile is fond. "Try living with her," he replies dryly. Then he turns to face Stiles fully. "I think she's right, though."

Stiles sighs. "Yeah, probably," he admits. "You wanna go get a coffee or something?"

Derek nods. "Coffee sounds good."

They head to the nearest coffee shop and find a seat in a quiet, cosy corner where they won't be disturbed. Their knees knock together beneath the table, and the soft light adds a feeling of intimacy that Stiles isn't sure he's comfortable with. But he's just paid almost four bucks for the deliciously ridiculous coffee in front of him, so he isn't going to back out now.

"So," he says, stirring sugar into his already syrup-filled drink. "Scott said he went to see you."

"He did," Derek answers, taking a sip of his tea. "He gave us two weeks to decide if we were staying."

"That's not fair," Stiles says, frowning. "That's a huge decision, he can't expect you to make it so quickly. I'll talk to him."

Derek shakes his head quickly. "He did it because of us," he explains, gesturing between himself and Stiles. "He said it wasn't fair to you if i wasn't going to hang around-- and I agree with him."

Stiles flushes, his heart pounding. "Derek, that's not--" he stammers. "Things are different now. Things aren't... what I thought they were. I'm not going to make it weird."

Derek looks at Stiles consideringly. "What did you think they were?" he asks after a moment. 

Stiles gives Derek a sad look. "It's complicated," he says. "Ghost-me and me-me had very different opinions about you, about us, but they were also kind of the same, y'know?"

Derek shakes his head. "No, I don't," he says. "This is the only life I know about."

Stiles huffs. "No, that's not what I'm saying." He shakes his head. "Just forget it, okay? Whatever either incarnation of me thought, I'm pretty sure I was wrong. So it doesn't matter."

Derek wants to press the matter, but decided against it. "Cora and I are thinking of staying," he decides on saying steading. 

Stiles' heart lurches in his chest, and he knows Derek hears it. "Really?" he asks. "Why?"

Derek shrugs one shoulder. "We think maybe the potential for good memories outweighs the bad ones we already have," he answers. 

Stiles looks sympathetic. "I hope it does," he says sincerely. "Beacon Hills is your home; it should remind you of more than what you've lost."

"I think it might, now," Derek admits softly, smiling at Stiles. 

Stiles flushes under the intensity of Derek's gaze, and drops his face into a hand with a groan. "Oh God, I'm in way over my head here - and so are you."

Derek frowns, confused. "What do you mean?"

Stiles raises his head to squint at Derek. "You really don't know, do you?" he asks. "You have no idea."

Derek shrugs helplessly. "I really don't. I know you're mad at me for not telling you, and for leaving without a word, and I hope we can at least be friends again, but that's about all I know of this situation."

Stiles shakes his head. "It's not about that," he says. "Well, it is, but not just about that. Why do you think we were so close when you were a kid?"

"We were both lonely," Derek answers. "You were my best friend."

Stiles sighs, and he looks sad. "You were more than that," he says. "I really thought you'd have figured it out by now. But maybe I was wrong."

"Stiles, I don't understand--"

"It's okay," Stiles interrupts. "You don't have to." He sets his mug down and stands up to shrug into his coat. "I've gotta run, but I'll talk to you later, okay? Thanks for this."

Part of Derek really wants to stop Stiles, to ask him to explain-- but the other part of him, the larger part, thinks that maybe now, when they're in public, isn't exactly the best time. "You're welcome," he says, standing as well. "Maybe we can do it again? Cora and I still have a week before we have to give Scott our decision on whether or not we're staying."

Stiles bites his lip, looking unsure, but at last he nods. "Just let me know when," he says.

* * *

Stiles and Derek hang out three more times over the next week, once with Cora and once with Scott and once by themselves. They see each other at a couple of pack nights too, but Derek is too busy being the centre of attention to talk to Stiles, and Stiles is too busy avoiding him to be available even if he wanted to. At no point do they return to the subject matter of their first two meetings, and it's a bit awkward but mostly it's okay. Stiles still has a few misgivings about what's going on with them, but he can't help but find it easy to talk to Derek, just like he always has, and as the second week draws to an end he realises that he's terrified. He's almost certain that Derek is going to leave again.

* * *

It's the night before their deadline, and Cora stands in the kitchen, watching Derek busy himself with the dishes. They haven't talked about it beyond the acknowledgement that a decision needs to be made, staying true to their initial agreement to take their time and not pressure each other. Derek has been acting antsy for the past three days, though, even more so tonight, and Cora can tell that he won't bring it up by himself.

So she clears her throat to draw his attention, despite the fact that he's known she's there the whole time, and says, "You want to stay, don't you?"

Derek jumps when Cora speaks, then makes himself finish the plate he was washing before putting it in the rack to dry. He takes a deep breath before he answers. "Yes," he admits. "I think I want to stay."

Cora raises an eyebrow at the back of Derek's head. "You think?"

Derek sighs. "I want to stay," he says, "but I don't know if that's what you want, and I don't want to lose you again, even if you're just traveling or something."

Cora lets out a long, slow breath. "I do want to travel," she admits, "eventually. But not right now. My priority right now is family. This town doesn't hold as much for me as it does for you, but I want to keep getting to know you, and I want you to be happy. So, I'll stay."

Derek hates that his expression is probably pathetically hopeful. "Really?"

Cora smiles. "You should tell Stiles," she says.

Derek grins, drying his hands before stepping forward to peck a kiss to Cora's cheek. "Thank you," he says sincerely, giving her a quick, impulsive hug as well before grabbing his keys and heading for the car; it's only seven in the evening, totally a reasonable time to tell Scott and Stiles that they're staying.

* * *

It's Scott's and Stiles' weekly game night, and they're both too engrossed in _Borderlands II_ to even think about moving. The sheriff answers the door, and looks Derek up and down before stepping back to let him in. "They're upstairs," he says unnecessarily. "You'd better not be about to screw this up, Hale."

Derek shakes his head. "No, sir," he promises before heading for the stairs; it's easy to tell which room is Stiles's, and he knocks on the door, waiting for permission to enter. 

"Come in, Dad!" Stiles calls. "Shit, Scott, they're all over me back here. What the fuck kind of sniper are you? And now I'm dead. Look at that, I'm fucking dead!" He throws the control onto the bed in front of him and turns to look at his dad - only, it's not his dad. His jaw drops.

Beside him, Scott smoothly pauses the game and looks over with a smile. "Hey Derek."

Derek offers them both a smile-- he's glad they're both here. "Hey. I actually wanted to talk to you both, so this is ... good." He laughs nervously, then says in a rush, "Cora and I made our decision."

Stiles and Scott exchange a look; Scott is smiling, but Stiles has gone deathly pale. "Oh," he says flatly. "Couldn't you have called?"

Derek deflates a little. "I could have, yeah," he says. "But I felt like this was something I needed to say in person, at least to Scott. Since he's with you, I figured I'd just tell you both."

Stiles looks increasingly uncomfortable, but Scott just gives Derek an encouraging nod. "Go on, Derek," he says. "Say what you have to say."

Derek decides to just ignore Stiles for now; instead, he focuses on Scott. "Cora and I have decided to stay in Beacon Hills. Cora wants to travel someday, and I might join her, but Beacon Hills is our home. We'd also like to officially join your pack."

Scott looks ridiculously smug, while Stiles' jaw has hit the floor. "There's always been a place for both of you in our pack," Scott says warmly. "We were just waiting for you to be ready to fill it."

Derek offers Scott a grateful smile. "Thank you," he says sincerely. "Sorry for interrupting your game; I just... wanted to let you know as soon as we made the final decision." With that, and an uncertain smile to Stiles, Derek leaves. 

Once Scott's sure he's out of earshot, the young alpha picks up his control and resumes the game. "Told you they'd stay."

"I know," Stiles grumbles, toying with his own control while he waits for his character to respawn. "I just didn't want to believe it."

Scott gives his knee a sympathetic pat. "Derek will come around," he says confidently. "You gotta remember that you were both kids, even if one of you was a ghost. And you never told him about that other thing, and we both know Derek isn't always the sharpest tool in the box."

"I know," Stiles says again, a hint of a whine in his voice. "But what if, y'know, I'm not? His. I don't know how these things work; I just know that he's mine."

"Dude," Scott says seriously, putting his controller down to turn and face Stiles directly. "Derek really likes you. He was pretty hurt that you didn't seem excited just now. And he clearly cares about you, considering he didn't even hesitate when I told him two weeks ago that the whole reason I put a limit on how long they could take to make this decision was because of you."

"Of course I'm excited!" Stiles defends heatedly. He pushes viciously on the controls so that the camera on his side of the split screen turns and he can shoot at an approaching bad guy. "Take that, you fucker, tryna sneak up on me. If I wasn't knee-deep in bandits right now I'd be crying pathetic tears of joy. But I'm too manly for that shit."

Scott rolls his eyes. "Of course you are," he says placatingly. "I'm just saying, dude, you can't expect Derek to do everything. Okay, he didn't tell you about the ghost thing-- but he had some good points. And you're not telling him about this, so..."

"He should know already!" Stiles cries. "He could _see me_ , Scott. No one else could!"

"He was a kid, Stiles," Scott repeats. "And after you got reborn or whatever, I bet he was pretty cut up about it. If he was anything like he is now, he probably didn't want to think too much about you because it hurt too much."

Stiles' health takes a major hit, and rather than try to fight it out, he just crawls away to die and respawn. Letting the control hang limply from one hand, he uses the other to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I really miss him," he confesses quietly.

Scott pauses the game for both of them before scooting closer to Stiles so he can wrap an arm around the other's shoulders. "I know," he answers softly. "I know."

Stiles just sighs and closes his eyes.

* * *

Derek worries at Cora for a few days about Stiles's unenthusiastic response to Derek's announcement, and eventually Cora tells him to just freaking talk to Stiles, but Derek is too nervous to say anything face-to-face, so he settles on a text: **Hey. Did I make the wrong choice? If you're uncomfortable with me being here, then let me know.**

Cora's actually the one who sends that after wrestling the phone from Derek when it takes him an hour to try to type out a message he was satisfied with, but that's just semantics. 

The response comes through barely a minute later: **Not uncomfortable, just shocked. Rlly thought u were goin to leave..**

Derek holds Cora off with one hand when she tries to get a look at what he's typing. **We thought about it-- but you were right. The potential for good is too much to just throw away. Plus I missed you the months we were gone.**

**I missed u too** , the next message says. It's promptly followed by a second. **We should probly talk huh?**

 **Yeah, we probably should. Haven't been doing too well with that since I found you again.**

**It's complicated. But I want to tell u.**

**You can tell me, Stiles.**

**I'm scared**

**It's always hard trusting someone,** Derek answers. 

**I trust you** , Stiles fires back, lightning fast. The next message takes longer coming through. **It's me I don't trust. Do sth for me?**

 **Anything.**

**Do some research. Find out why u could c me when no1 else could. If u still wanna talk, I'll b in the coffee shop @ noon 2moro**

Derek frowns slightly, but sends, **Okay. ******

Half an hour later, his phone buzzes again. **If u decide u hate me, pls dont come.**

* * *

So Derek researches. 

And researches. 

And researches some more. 

A quick call to Deaton leads Derek to some trustworthy websites, and at roughly four in the morning, Derek has his confirmed answer. 

"Soulmates," Derek says flatly, sitting down in front of Stiles with a large Milky Way latte in his hand. "You're saying I could see you because we're soulmates?"

Stiles suddenly finds his own vanilla latte fascinating. "Well, you're mine," he says eventually. "I haven't decided if I'm yours yet."

Derek studies his hands for a moment before taking a deep breath and admitting, "I don't know. I mean, werewolves and ghosts and a lot of other supernatural creatures-- those are obvious. But soulmates?"

Stiles shrugs. "I knew, back then," he says. "I could feel it. Y'know, because I was a ghost. I figured you could too, as another supernatural creature." He frowns. "But if you can't..."

"I don't know about the soulmates thing," Derek says slowly, thinking back. "But--I always felt... drawn to you, I think is the word. Even when I was a kid."

Stiles feels something inside of him settle for the first time since he got his memories back, and he closes his eyes, his lips parted on a sigh of relief. "Okay," he says. "I can work with that."

One corner of Derek's mouth twitches up into a smile. "Yeah," he agrees. "Look, Stiles-- I really care about you. I don't know if it's romantic or not, but I care about you. I just want you to know that."

Stiles nods. "Me too," he says with feeling. "I care about you, too. And despite whatever my face did that night, I'm really glad you're sticking around."

Derek feels something inside of himself loosen at that, and he smiles. "I'm glad," he says quietly, but no less sincerely. 

Stiles smiles back. Maybe there's hope for them yet.

* * *

The rest of the pack are just as delighted to learn that Derek is staying as Stiles and Scott were, and they waste absolutely no time in flocking to the loft. Completely unannounced, of course. They pour into the room as soon as Derek opens the door, chattering amongst themselves and carrying two-litre bottles of soda and bags upon bags of chips and God only knows what else.

"Y'know, you really could do with some actual furniture in here," Erica says casually as she wanders into the kitchen. Moments later she can be heard banging through the cupboards, looking for appropriately-sized bowls and enough glasses to hold their goodies.

"Yeah," Scott huffs from behind a mound of throw pillows. "We got you covered for tonight, but we really could use a sofa. And, like, several chairs."

" _And_ a TV." Lydia isn't carrying anything except a satchel bag slung over her shoulder, but Allison is trying to peer around yet another armful of cushions. Lydia pats the satchel and raises an eyebrow. "You do have an outlet I can use, right?" she asks, and moves away before Derek can answer.

Stiles is the last person to arrive, hurrying up to the door just as Derek is about to close it. He's flushed and grinning, and has his school bag with him. "Hey!" he says, somewhat breathless. "Sorry, I had to find somewhere to park. Isaac will be along soon, he's just getting pizza. Are you okay?"

"Wondering why _my_ place is the one being invaded, but other than that, I'm fine," Derek answers, amused. "Not that I'm complaining, but a bit of forewarning would have been nice." This last bit is directed at the gathered pack in his living room along with a pointed look.

Everyone stops what they're doing and turns to look at him, but after a moment, almost as one, they shrug and carry on. Stiles grins. "They all got a bit excited," he stage-whispers. "They missed you a lot."

Derek rolls his eyes. "I'm struggling to remember why I wanted to stay," he says, mock-serious, then laughs when Scott tosses a cushion at his head. 

"Would you all quit fooling around and get comfortable?" Lydia snaps. She's propped up her laptop on a surprisingly sturdy-looking pile of books and is crouched in front of it, clicking away. "We're ready to start."

Stiles frowns as he abandons Derek to move closer. "Lydia, what are you doing?" he asks. "It was my job to bring the movies!" He holds up his school bag, which is obviously bulging with DVDs.

Lydia glances at him over her shoulder and snorts delicately. "While I'm sure that your selection will be fascinating, Stiles, it's my laptop, so I'm in charge of what we watch."

Stiles' face falls as the menu screen of the movie she's chosen pops up. " _The Notebook_?" he whines, crestfallen.

Lydia looks ridiculously smug. " _The Notebook,_ " she confirms.

"Okay, no," Derek breaks in, "This is my loft, so _I_ have executive decision over what we watch, and Cora and I have banned anything Nicholas Sparks-related from the loft."

"Well, it's either _The Notebook_ or _Steel Magnolias_ ," Lydia says sweetly, "and I know we were all really touched by how much Stiles cried at that when we watched it over the summer."

"No!" Stiles cries. " _The Notebook_ it is! Shut up, Derek, I love this movie. Why isn't it on already?"

Erica laughs as she returns to the room with Boyd to distribute glasses of coke. She snags a couple of cushions from the pile and makes herself comfortable on the floor while Boyd goes back into the kitchen for the bowls of chips. "But it was so cute!" she coos. "Derek, pick _Steel Magnolias_!"

"It's gotta be better than _The Notebook,_ " Derek reasons.

Stiles shoots Derek a look of such utter betrayal that several people in the room hiss in a sharp breath; Lydia just smirks, swaps the DVDs, and sits down.

"Oh don't pout like that, Stiles," Erica wheedles. "You can sit next to Derek; I'm sure he'll hold your hand through the sad bits."

"I don't wanna sit with him," Stiles grumbles darkly, but by the time he's grabbed himself some cushions and got settled on the floor, the only space left for Derek is right beside him.

"You can cry on me," Derek reassures Stiles; he can't resist a smirk, though, as he settles next to Stiles. 

"You just wait, buddy," Stiles mutters. "Maybe you'll be crying on me."

As it turns out, they end up crying on each other-- not sobs, but there are definitely some tears from both of them. "Okay, new rule," Derek decides as the credits roll, "that one is banned, too."

Stiles sniffles against Derek's shoulder and sits up to wipe his face. "I told you," he mumbles. His eyes narrow when he notices the delighted look Erica is giving him. "Fuck off, Erica."

"Gladly," Erica says brightly, getting to her feet. "Derek, help me in the kitchen?"

"Sure," Derek says after a moment, getting to his feet. "What do you need help with?"

"We need more drinks," Erica answers, already gathering glasses. "Come on." Once they get to the kitchen, though, she deposits everything onto the counter and rounds on Derek. "Do you have any ice cream?"

"Uh, yes?" Derek answers, unsure of where Erica is going with this. "In the freezer, middle shelf."

"Do you think Stiles would like some ice cream?"

"Probably," Derek says, fishing out bowls for the ice cream that Erica is apparently determined to feed the pack. 

"Ice cream helps a lot of things," Erica says wisely, nodding. "Boyd took me out for ice cream once after we had a fight. It was really nice. Stiles did cry a lot watching that movie."

"I suppose he did," Derek allows. He eyes Erica for a moment, wondering what, exactly, is going on behind that innocent expression, but decides that most likely, he doesn't want to know.

"I bet he feels a bit humiliated," Erica continues thoughtfully. "That's twice he's cried in front of us now - about that movie, anyway. And this time _you_ were there."

That gets a slight frown. "Why would that make a difference?" he asks, confused. It's humiliating either way, sure, but why would _Derek_ being there make any difference?

"Because he doesn't want you to think he's weak," Erica says, searching Derek's face. "You don't, do you?"

"He's _Stiles_ ," Derek says, like that explains everything-- and it does, for him. "He's anything but weak."

Erica smirks. "Keep talking."

Derek gives Erica an odd look. "Let's just get the ice cream out there before it melts," he says after a moment of charged silence.

Erica doesn't protest, but she does lean up to talk directly into Derek's ear as she passes him. "Tell him."

Derek pretends he doesn't hear her, but it's in the back of his mind for the rest of the night, making him quieter than usual. What did she mean? That Derek should tell Stiles he thinks that Stiles is incredibly strong and brave, especially after everything that he's been through? That can't just be it, can it?

It hits him at the end of the night, with Stiles passed out, snoring and drooling on Derek's shoulder and Derek can't even bring himself to be annoyed, just fond, that she wasn't talking about Derek's comment.

She was talking about the fact that Derek loves Stiles.

* * *

Things continue on as normal for the next few weeks. There are three more pack nights, during which Stiles always manages to end up sitting with Derek, and Stiles and Derek hang out on their own a couple of times, too. It's nice, but more than that, it's really frustrating. Stiles has already mostly put himself out there, and Derek didn't reciprocate, which would be fine - except that Derek is currently sending some really weird signals.

Stiles has caught Derek looking at his mouth on more occasions than he can count; looking into his eyes with this soft, private little smile on his lips even more than that. Each time it happens, Stiles feels a little glimmer of hope that maybe, maybe, Derek feels the same way - but just as often, Derek closes off from him, shuts him out and returns to monosyllabic responses, if he responds at all, and whatever flame Stiles might be carrying gets douses in ice cold water each time. He doesn't know what's going on, he doesn't understand what message Derek is trying to give him - so one night, he raids his father's alcohol cupboard, downs half a bottle of whiskey and decides that this is it. Enough is enough. He needs to talk to Derek.

He walks to the loft, because it isn't that far and he's not stupid enough to drive, and then pounds on the door until Derek answers it. It doesn't occur to him that the hour has ticked past midnight during his moonlit stroll, and he takes Derek's disgruntled expression as confirmation of his suspicions.

"See, this is _exactly_ what I'm talking about," Stiles says, slurring slightly. "I don't know about you, Derek, but I've been feeling like shit lately. Like absolute shit. I don't know which way is up or down anymore. I thought I knew. Before. Before I remembered. But now I don't know anything." He sucks in a long breath. "So I figure, fine. Whatever. You aren't getting the message, so I'll spell it out for you. All my cards on the table. Does that sound good to you? And then you can take it or leave it, whatever you want, but this madness needs to stop, because I don't want to feel like this anymore."

Derek blinks. "Feel like what?" he asks cautiously. Stiles smells very obviously like alcohol with bitterness turning his scent acrid. 

Stiles sighs, looks away. "Like you're only humouring me," he says. "I told you about the soulmates thing and I don't think you believe me, but that's fine. I don't care about that. It doesn't mean anything anyway, from what I've read. It doesn't mean we're meant to be together." He huffs. "And if you don't want anything to do with me, that's okay, and if you want to be friends, that's okay too, but I think-- I think I need some space."

"Space?" Derek echoes, confused. "Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm in love with you," Stiles says, "and it's killing me."

Derek stares at Stiles. "You're in love with me?"

"That's what I just said, isn't it?" Stiles snaps, vulnerability making him lash out. "You can't honestly tell me you didn't know."

"I didn't!" Derek protests-- but that's not quite true. He's had thoughts, certainly, moments where he's wondered, but he hasn't known _for sure_ until now. "Stiles, I swear I didn't know."

"Well, you know now," Stiles says, defeated. "So can you do me a solid and let me back off for a while?"

"No!" Derek exclaims, lunging forward to take Stiles's hand in his. "I want you to get closer-- I want you to kiss me."

Stiles stares at him. "What?" he asks weakly.

Derek flushes. "I, uh-- I feel the same. I love you. I just didn't know how you felt."

"Derek, I told you we were soulmates," Stiles says. "I didn't get out of bed for three days after you left. I've been in love with you for over a year."

"No one told me about that middle one," Derek argues, "and soulmates aren't always romantic."

"Before I got my memories back, before Jennifer, I really thought we were gearing up for something to happen between us," Stiles confesses. "And then you left, and I knew what you'd been keeping from me, and I thought that maybe it had all been a lie."

Derek shakes his head. "Nothing would have happened until you knew the truth," he reassures Stiles. "But, well-- I didn't know how to tell you. And I left before I could figure it out. But you're right; we were heading for something. I'd like to find out what."

Stiles smiles, a tentative, hopeful thing, and takes a step closer. "Do you still want me to kiss you?"

Derek nods, mirroring the movement. "I really want you to kiss me," he confides. 

Derek may have had to tell him twice, but this is all the encouragement Stiles needs; he's in Derek's space in a flash, pushing himself into Derek's arms and tilting his face up so that their mouths can meet.

In a distant part of Derek's mind, he realizes that they're kissing in the hallway of his building in the middle of the night, but the more immediate part couldn't give a shit about that, because they're _kissing._ He wraps one arm around Stiles's waist, the other coming to cup the back of Stiles's head, threading his fingers through his hair so he can help them find the best angle. It's everything he never dared dream it would be. 

When they finally break apart, Stiles is flushed, his lips red and wet, his eyes bright. "Well," he says, and for once he's lost for words. "Well."

"Well," Derek agrees with a small smile, leaning for another kiss. 

Stiles meets him halfway, and this kiss is soft, sweet, and makes Stiles ache. "I'm a bit drunk," he confides against Derek's mouth. "Can we go inside?"

Derek huffs a laugh. "Yeah, you're drunk," he agrees. He hesitates, though, before he says, "You can come in, ‘cause I really don't want you going anywhere while you're drunk, but... you can take my bed, okay? I'll sleep on the couch."

Stiles' face falls. "You won't stay with me?"

"I want to," Derek hastens to reassure Stiles, "but there's some stuff we need to talk about first. _Not_ when you're drunk."

Stiles frowns, but nods. "Maybe I should just go home then."

"If you want to," Derek says. "But I really don't want you walking around in the middle of the night like this."

Stiles sighs. "What _do_ you want?" he asks.

"I want you to stay here, and I want to stay in the same bed as you," Derek confesses after a moment. "I don't want anything more than that. At least for now."

Stiles nods, smiles. "That sounds perfect."

Derek gives Stiles a shy smile. "It kinda does," he murmurs in agreement. "Come on."

* * *

After a glorious night of fully-clothed spooning, Stiles wakes up mildly hungover and completely alone. He is decidedly not pleased by this development, and untangles himself from the covers to pad through the loft in search of Derek. He finds him in the kitchen, and it bothers Stiles that he can't read the look on his face, so he ignores the urge to cross the room and kiss Derek in favour of sitting down at the table with a tentative smile. "Good morning, I guess?"

Derek's expression clears enough for him to offer Stiles a genuine smile as he pushes a cup of coffee across the table. "Good morning," he agrees. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay," Stiles says uncertainly. "I don't feel as awful as I expected to. What about you?"

"I'm feeling pretty hopeful," Derek confesses. "I think we could be good together, even leaving aside the whole 'soulmates' thing."

"Me too," Stiles says, smiling. "Last night was... really good."

"It was," Derek concedes, smiling back. The smile dims slightly, and he takes a deep breath. "I said there were some things we needed to talk about," he begins, and then makes himself say the next words: "It's about Jennifer."

Stiles sighs. "I know," he says. "She killed a lot of people and seriously fucked us all over, but I know you cared about her. It can't have been easy to lose her."

Derek shakes his head. "I didn't care about her," he disagrees. "Not in that way, at least. I think-- I talked about it with Cora, while we were gone, and we think she hexed me, those three days I was gone. She did... something. To me." It still hurts, thinking about it-- one of the few times that Derek opened up to someone, and they turned out to be a fucking _Darach._

Stiles' jaw has drops, and he reaches across the table to grab Derek's hand in a firm, desperate trip. "Derek," he says, his voice strangled. "What are you saying?"

Derek can't meet Stiles's eyes. "I told you I thought it was only one night," he says quietly, almost ashamed. "You said it was three days."

Stiles feels sick. "So you-- she--" He can't bring himself to say the words; his hand tightens around Derek's convulsively. "I'll kill her," he snarls.

"Stiles, she's long gone," Derek says reasonably-- but also a bit resigned. "There's nothing we can do now."

But Stiles is vibrating with rage. "I'll find her," he says. "I'll rip her apart. She can't get away with this, Derek, what she did to you--"

"Stiles, _please,_ " Derek begs. "She's gone, and it's been several months since it happened. There's no reason to waste time trying to find her."

Stiles stops, and stares at Derek. "Why aren't you angry?" he asks. "You should want to tear her limb from limb for this. And unlike me, you actually could."

"This isn't the first time I've been used to get to my pack," Derek answers, still quiet. "Being angry didn't help the first time."

And Stiles can't really argue with that. They got Kate in the end, but that was down to Peter, who killed Laura in the process. There's no way Derek sees that as worth it, and Stiles can't even begin to persuade him that pursuing Jennifer would be. "So what do you need?" Stiles asks instead.

"I needed to tell you," Derek answers, "and... I need to take this slow. I know you're nothing like either of them, but those relationships progressed really fast. I need this to be different in every way."

Stiles nods, and when he squeezes Derek's hand this time, it's a gentle and reasuring pressure. "Absolutely," he says. "I may act like a desperately horny teenager, and hey, maybe I am - but I'm happy to wait, take things slow. I'm not even eighteen yet, and at the end of the day, I just want to be with you."

Derek smiles, turning his hand so he and Stiles can lace their fingers together. "Thank you," he says gratefully. "And I want to be with you, too. I trust you."

"With my life," Stiles agrees, smiling back. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Derek says-- and for the first time in a very long time, he feels like maybe those words won't come back to bite him in the ass.

* * *

Of course, that doesn't mean that everything is suddenly, magically worked out-- Derek and Stiles still like to argue, still miscommunicate, and still piss each other off. But at the end of the day, they work through whatever the problem of the day is, and they reach an understanding and apologies and kisses are delivered where due. Derek gets the 'hurt him and you'll regret it' talk from Scott, and Stiles gets a much scarier version from Cora that both of them still refuse to talk about. Overall, though, the pack is happy that they're together-- especially Erica, who collects over forty dollars in what appears to be bet money. Derek's not looking too closely at that.

Stiles is in the last semester of his senior year, so things get really busy for a while-- but they find time to celebrate Stiles's birthday in a more private setting than the one the pack provided(really, Erica, the honeymoon suite at the local hotel?). It's different from both Kate and Jennifer in that, for once, Derek knows _exactly_ what's going on and who with. It's a little awkward at times, a little hysterical(Derek trips taking off his pants and Stiles falls off the bed reaching for the lube), but above all, it's perfect. It's not the only time they make love, and each time is better than the last.

Stiles ends up passing the SATs with near-perfect scores across the board, allowing him access to almost any school he could want to get into; he chooses Berkeley, a few hours away. Close enough that he can come back in case of an emergency or for weekends, and close enough that Derek and the pack can visit him, too. Lydia goes a bit farther away-- Stanford, nearly a full day's drive-- but everyone sticks pretty close to home. Derek's taking online courses and working closely with the sheriff's department as a supernatural consultant, and he's thinking about possibly becoming a nurse like Mrs. McCall. It's not like he _needs_ a job, but he'd like to do something a bit more meaningful with his life, and he'd like to help people.

In the weeks leading up to Stiles's moving, the younger of the two ends up staying in Derek's loft more and more often until he's all but moved in there himself. The night before Derek's due to help Stiles finishing packing the last few boxes and help him load everything into the Jeep so they can drive down to Berkeley, Derek's all but dragged Stiles into bed, trapping him in an embrace. "I don't like the thought of you going so far away," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of Stiles's neck.

Stiles smiles and brings up a hand to pet Derek's hair. "It's not all that far," he says soothingly. "I'll be back most weekends and you can come see me when I can't make it. You will, right?"

"Of course I will," Derek promises, a bit affronted that Stiles would even suggest that Derek wouldn't. "I just don't like the thought that your scent's going to fade from here-- I've gotten used to it."

Stiles laughs softly. "I'll make sure to refresh it as often as possible," he promises. "And I can leave something of mine here? Maybe we could swap hoodies back and forth, so I'll always smell like you and you'll always have something that smells like me."

Derek hides his smile in Stiles's hair. "I like that idea," he murmurs. 

"Yeah?" Stiles asks, lightly scritching his nails against Derek's scalp. "How will that make your wolf feel?"

Derek groans pleasurably when Stiles does that, tightening his arms around his partner. "Very happy," he murmurs. "Especially if you keep doing that."

"So noted," Stiles chuffs. He hesitates. "You know I'm not leaving you behind, right?"

"The thought's crossed my mind," Derek admits quietly. "You're going on to college, and I'm staying here. You're still really young, and just starting your adult life. I worry that maybe you'll decide you're better off without me."

"Never," Stiles says confidently. "Yeah, I'm going to college, but it won't change how I feel. There is nothing I could find out there that's bigger or better than what I have right here."

Derek will never, _ever_ admit just how pleased and loved that makes him feel.

Stiles knows anyway, though, and he's smiling as he pulls back to steal a kiss. "You're it for me," he murmurs. "You've been it for me since you introduced me to _Star Wars_. There's no chance I'm letting you get away."

Derek can't help but smile and kiss Stiles back. "Good," he murmurs. "Cause I'm not letting you go either."

* * *

_"Derek! Hey, Derek!" Stiles calls, racing over to where Derek is waiting on the steps up to his house. He isn't breathless when he reaches Derek, just grinning like Derek is the best thing he's seen all day. Honestly, he is. "What are we doing today? And can we do something else? I've had an idea!"_

_Derek gives Stiles an amused look. "We were going to do the same thing we do every day," he answers, rolling his eyes. "What do you want to do instead?"_

_"I want to try something," Stiles announces. "I want to touch you."_

_"Touch me?" Derek echoes incredulously. "You think you can?"_

_Stiles nods. "I think so," he says. "I just have to want it enough."_

_Still, Derek hesitates. "Will it hurt you?"_

_Stiles shrugs. "I don't think so."_

_"You don't think so," Derek mocks in a mutter, but he sighs. "Okay. We can give it a try-- but if it's hurting you, we stop, okay?"_

_"Swear," Stiles agrees, beaming. "Let's go somewhere quiet?"_

_Stiles follows readily, and when they find the clearing they sit down on the floor opposite each other. If Stiles were corporeal, their knees would be touching. "So, I don't really know how to do this," he confesses. "I just think I have to concentrate really hard."_

_Derek mods. "Makes sense," he allows. "But remember, if it starts hurting you, we stop. We can always work on it later."_

_Stiles doesn't answer; instead, he reaches out a hand and, staring intently at Derek's arm, tries to touch it. His fingers pass straight through. "Okay," he says, frowning. "Not as easy as I thought. Okay." He tries again._

_Derek shivers slightly with each pass. "You sure you can do this?"_

_"Yes," Stiles says, his teeth clenched as he reaches for Derek again. "I just have to try harder."_

_"Stiles," Derek says, a little frightened now. "You look fuzzy."_

_"What?" Stiles asks distractedly. "I've almost got this, Derek.”_

_"_ Stiles, _" Derek repeats, truly alarmed now. "You're getting fainter-- I can barely see you."_

_"Derek," Stiles huffs. "Shut up!" He reaches out once more, scowling with the force of his concentration, his fingers a hair's breadth from Derek's arm. "I swear I can do it this time, I just need to--" And then he vanishes._

_Derek freaks out; this has never happened before. But no amount of yelling and begging to the thin air brings Stiles back._

_Three days later and Stiles still has yet to reappear. It's the longest he's ever been missing, and Derek starts to worry. It's another two days before he realises he's being silly. Stiles wouldn't leave him; Stiles promised never to. He probably just tired himself out, and needs time to work up the energy to be seen again. That's all it is, Derek tells himself while he stares out of his bedroom window long past bedtime, hoping to glimpse a skinny boy running across the lawn. Stiles will come back._

_Stiles always comes back._


End file.
